Crown  Theological  Library 


Gardner,  Percy,  1846-1937. 
Modernity  and  the  churches 


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MODERNITY  AND 
THE  CHURCHES 


\X/ 

PERCY  GARDNER,  Litt.D. 


NEW  YORK:  G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS 

LONDON :  WILLIAMS  AND  NORGATE 

1909 


PREFACE 


The  paper  which  gives  its  title  to  the  present 
volume  was  the  inaugural  address  to  the 
Hibbert  Summer  School  of  Liberal  Theology, 
held  in  Oxford  in  September  1909.  I  was 
urged  to  print  the  address,  and  at  the  sug¬ 
gestion  of  the  publishers  1  have  added  to  it 
some  papers  which  I  have  in  recent  years, 
from  time  to  time,  read  before  various  theo¬ 
logical  societies. 

Thus  the  unity  of  the  volume  is  not  the 
unity  of  a  planned  treatise,  but  only  such  as 
is  derived  from  the  dominance  of  a  point  of 
view.  Nevertheless,  the  papers  fit  into  one 
another  better  than  I  expected.  Occasionally 
there  are  certainly  overlappings,  and  even 
repetitions,  but  these  are  no  serious  disadvan¬ 
tages.  These  papers  are  contributions,  slight 


VI 


Preface 


and  scattered — how  slight  no  one  knows  better 
than  myself — containing  such  suggestions  as 
I  have  been  able  to  make,  in  the  leisure  left 
by  other  duties,  towards  the  solution  of  one 
of  the  most  serious  problems  of  our  times, 
the  reconstruction  of  Christian  theology  in 
accordance  with  the  intellectual  tendencies  of 
the  age. 

I  have  been  allowed  to  reprint  two  papers 
(VI.  and  IX.)  already  published. 

PERCY  GARDNER. 


Oxford,  October  1909- 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I.  Modernity  and  the  Churches  1 

The  Hibbert  School  of  Theology,  1.Q09- 


II.  The  Essential  Nature  of  Christian  Faith  .  44 

The  Martineau  Society,  1909- 

III.  The  Divine  Will  .  .  .  .  .  .81 

The  Churchmen’s  Union,  1906. 

IV.  The  Function  of  Prayer  .  .  .  .116 

The  Churchmen’s  Union,  1904. 


V.  The  Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine 
The  Churchmen’s  Union,  1902. 

VI.  The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine 
The  Hibbert  Journal ,  1902. 

VII.  The  Basis  of  Christology,  1902  . 

VIII.  The  Christian  Church,  1905 

IX.  Liberal  Anglicanism  .... 
The  Liberal  Churchma?i,  1905. 


149 

200 

230 

255 

283 


VI 1 


SYNOPSIS  OF  CONTENTS 


I.— MODERNITY  AND  THE  CHURCHES 

We  speak  here  only  of  modern  movements  which  are 
intellectual,  not  social,  1  ;  Modern  tendencies  made  up  of 
two  movements,  one  historic,  one  psychologic,  3. 

I.  Comte’s  view  of  the  hierarchy  of  the  sciences  :  the 
sense  of  law  spreads  upwards  from  physical  to  biological 
studies,  and  thence  into  history,  4  ;  The  essence  of  modern 
criticism  is  comparison,  and  the  comparative  method  has 
spread  to  theology,  8  ;  It  is  destructive  of  all  notion  of 
infallibility,  but  insists  on  evolution  in  the  history  of  all 
religions,  1 2  ;  But  limits  are  set  to  the  comparative  treat¬ 
ment  of  Christianity  by  Christian  feeling,  and  for  the 
defence  of  this  feeling  we  must  appeal  to  psychology,  14. 

II.  The  most  important  movement  in  religious  psycho¬ 
logy  is  the  pragmatist,  16  ;  It  appeals  to  experience,  and 
experience  shows  the  faculties  of  action  in  man  to  be 
primary,  20  ;  Quotation  from  W.  James,  21  ;  The  intro¬ 
duction  of  this  view  into  religion  seems  to  deprive  it  of  its 
absolute  quality,  23  ;  All  becomes  relative  to  the  individual, 
the  society,  or  the  race,  25  ;  The  test  of  truth  will  be 
survival  rather  than  logical  justification,  26 ;  This  seems 
destructive,  but  such  an  impression  is  modified  by  various 
considerations,  27  ;  We  must  take  a  broad  view  of  history, 
and  consider  results  over  a  long  period,  28  ;  The  active 
qualities  of  man  are  more  permanent  than  his  intellectual 
habits,  29 ;  Thus  the  pragmatic  tendency  really  tends  to 
conservatism,  30. 


IX 


x  Synopsis  of  Contents 

III.  The  connection  between  the  historic  and  psycho¬ 
logic  movements  lies  in  the  appeal  of  both  of  them  to 
fact,  32  ;  In  some  respects  they  may  be  compared  with 
Utilitarianism  in  ethics,  but  avoid  the  narrowness  of  the 
latter,  33, 

IV.  Modernism  a  recognised  tendency  in  the  Roman 
Church,  35  ;  It  has  at  least  as  promising  a  field  among 
the  Reformed  Churches,  36 ;  It  makes  religion  far  more 
adaptable  and  elastic  :  instances,  the  doctrine  of  divine 
forgiveness,  and  that  of  the  Incarnation,  37 ;  The  origin  of 
beliefs  quite  a  different  question  from  their  utility :  the 
latter  more  practically  important,  41. 


II.— THE  ESSENTIAL  NATURE  OF  CHRISTIAN 

FAITH 

Faith  not  the  acceptance  of  particular  beliefs,  nor 
merely  emotional,  44. 

I.  Faith  in  General. — Some  faith  necessary  to  our  exist¬ 
ence  among  material  things,  and  to  our  daily  life,  46 ; 
It  guarantees  the  uniformity  of  nature,  and  makes  rela¬ 
tions  with  other  persons  possible,  47  ;  It  is  based  upon 
experience,  but  usually  starts  with  some  emotion  of  love 
or  admiration,  49  ;  It  goes  beyond  experience,  but  is  liable 
to  be  destroyed  by  adverse  fact,  52. 

II.  Religious  Faith. — This  is  a  self-determination  in  the 
direction  of  accepting  belief  in  divine  goodness,  a  belief 
without  which  life  becomes  ineffective,  54 ;  It  is  little 
dependent  on  speculative  views,  56 ;  It  arises  from 
religious  experience  :  very  often  it  is  eclipsed  by  the  facts 
of  life,  58 ;  It  belongs  alike  to  individuals  and  com¬ 
munities,  62 ;  It  is  the  subliminal  consciousness  of  the 


Synopsis  of  Contents  xi 

race  that  such  faith  is  necessary  which  gives  rise  to 
theistic  views  of  the  worlds  63. 

III.  Christian  Faith, — This  differs  from  the  last  because 
of  its  relation  to  history,  67 ;  Though  its  essence  is  an 
enthusiasm,  it  requires  the  admission  of  some  facts  as 
regards  the  life  of  the  Founder  and  the  history  of  the 
Church,  69  ;  Very  various  views  in  the  early  Church  as 
regards  the  person  of  Christ,  71  ;  The  life  of  faith 
essentially  a  corporate  life,  but  it  belongs  also  to  in¬ 
dividuals,  and  is  fostered  by  the  ordinances  of  the 
Church,  73. 


III.— THE  DIVINE  WILL 

This  phrase  very  common  in  the  New  Testament;  not 
peculiar  to  Christianity,  but  distinctive  of  it,  81. 

I.  Is  the  phrase  put  out  of  court  by  recent  growth  of 
thought  ?  83  ;  It  is  anthropomorphic,  but  it  is  an  attempt 
to  express  in  simple  words  some  of  the  most  fundamental 
of  human  experiences,  87  ;  It  serves  to  colligate  facts,  89  ; 
The  divine  will  not  capricious  nor  arbitrary,  but  orderly 
and  reasonable,  91  ;  Through  the  early  Church  the  doctrine 
passed  to  the  Reformers,  especially  Calvin,  92. 

II.  The  underlying  secret  of  the  universe  a  stream  of 
force,  which  we  can  only  realise  as  will,  95  ;  In  the  physical 
world  it  acts  in  a  fixed  and  uniform  way,  96 ;  Many  people 
can  only  realise  the  divine  working  in  nature  by  supposing 
miraculous  interventions  possible,  97  ;  Divine  power  works 
from  within,  100. 

III.  Turning  to  the  inner  world  of  humanity,  we  there 
find  the  divine  will  ideal,  an  end  towards  which  goodness 
strives,  101  ;  Here  man  works  with  God,  either  helping  or 


xii  Synopsis  of  Contents 

hindering,  1 02  ;  Every  deed  which  raises  or  sweetens  life 
in  accord  with  the  divine  will,  103  ;  Though  not  always 
understood,  we  conceive  it  as  reasonable  and  kind,  105. 

IV.  The  divine  -will  revealed  first  to  the  individual,  106  ; 
Will  in  man  being  prior  to  thought,  it  is  through  doing  the 
will  of  God  that  he  learns  what  it  is,  108  ;  This  doing  also 
in  the  end  produces  happiness,  and  so  love  arises,  109  ;  It 
is  also  revealed  to  the  community,  especially  the  Christian 
Church,  wrhich  acts  as  a  reservoir  for  storing  the  results  of 
divine  revelation  and  impulse,  111. 

IV.— THE  FUNCTION  OF  PRAYER 

Prayer  a  matter  of  religious  psychology  :  we  distinguish 
fact  and  theory,  11 6. 

I.  Presuppositions  as  regards  the  Deity,  118;  Barrier  of 
the  will,  119;  Prayer,  the  door  into  the  super-conscious: 
involves  active  exertion,  120. 

II.  Objection  arising  from  a  sense  of  law,  123;  Law 
gradually  traced  in  the  visible  world :  as  we  ascend,  it 
changes  its  character,  1 26  ;  Human  conduct  and  character 
the  field  of  prayer,  127  ;  We  may  pray  for  others  :  but  not 
that  the  laws  of  matter  may  be  changed,  128  ;  Prayer  out 
of  place  when  results  can  be  predicted,  130;  Effects  of 
prayer  on  the  body,  131. 

III.  Is,  however,  prayer  legitimate,  in  view  of  our  little 
knowledge?  132;  It  is  the  relation  of  will  to  will,  133; 
Not  a  spell  to  compel  divine  power,  135;  Influence  on 
character,  136;  If  we  pray  with  submission  to  the  divine 
will,  no  objection :  we  must  go,  not  by  a  priori  views,  but 
by  experience,  138. 

IV.  Is  prayer  for  rain  or  fine  weather  allowable  ?  143. 


Synopsis  of  Contents 


•  •  • 


Xlll 


V.— THE  TRANSLATION  OF  CHRISTIAN 

DOCTRINE 

The  word  translation  will  be  taken  broadly,  as  referring 
to  ideas  as  well  as  wrords,  149. 

I.  Impossibility  even  in  modern  European  languages  of 
finding  exact  equivalents  for  wrords,  150  ;  This  difficulty 
much  greater  in  dealing  with  utterances  of  a  bygone  age, 
152  ;  Even  modern  classical  students  very  imperfectly 
understand  the  conditions  of  Greek  and  Roman  life,  154; 
This  applies  even  more  in  the  case  of  the  Bible,  155; 
Doctrine  grew  up  in  a  Jewish,  Greek,  and  Roman  medium, 
156;  Quotation  from  Westcott,  158. 

II.  Doctrine  originated  by  St  Paul,  160;  He  mingles 
Jewish  and  Greek  elements,  1 6 1  ;  He  and  the  Fourth 
Evangelist  try  to  express  the  primary  experiences  of 
Christianity  in  terms  which  shall  be  intelligible  to  their 
contemporaries,  162;  They  united  the  Greek  doctrine  of 
the  reason  and  the  Jewish  doctrine  of  the  will,  165  ;  The 
history  of  the  Church  proves  the  main  principles  of  Pauline 
doctrine  to  be  fitted  for  permanence,  165  ;  But  he  often 
argues  as  a  Rabbi,  166. 

III.  His  Christology  stated  in  his  own  words,  168  ;  It 
does  not  tally  with  that  of  the  later  Creeds,  170;  If  the 
latter  are  absolute  truth,  St  Paul  heretical :  but  from  the 
relative  point  of  view  we  can  justify  him,  171  ;  Comparison 
of  doctrine  to  a  tree  with  root,  branches,  and  leaves,  171; 
Such  terms  as  ovcrta,  v7rocrTacri9,  and  qkvcris  have  no  modern 
equivalents,  172. 

IV.  His  Soteriology ,  174;  It  is  based  partly  on  quasi- 
historic  Jewish  ideas,  partly  on  the  oriental  notion  of  the 


xiv  Synopsis  of  Contents 

conflict  between  spirit  and  flesh,  partly  on  the  notions  of 
Roman  law,  175;  St  Paul’s  Epistles  in  a  sense  trilingual, 
179;  The  writer  to  the  Hebrews  carries  further  some 
points  suggested  by  St  Paul :  he  greatly  needs  modern 
translation,  181. 

V.  Soteriology  in  the  hands  of  Augustine,  and  in  those 
of  the  Reformers,  181  ;  The  latter  accepted  current 
theology,  183;  Modernisation  by  Schleiermacher,  185; 
In  England  less  of  methodic  thought,  185. 

VI.  The  amorphous  character  of  doctrine  here  hitherto 
not  in  all  ways  a  drawback,  but  now  becoming  so,  187. 
The  Protestant  theology  ruinous,  189;  Need  for  a  re¬ 
ligious  psychology,  190  ;  Yet  for  a  time  it  is  likely  to  be 
superficial,  and  the  unscientific  thought  of  great  men  may 
be  more  valuable,  191  ;  Transitional  character  of  some 
doctrine,  1 92  ;  Are  we  to  try  to  form  fresh  formulae,  or  to 
re-interpret  the  old?  194- ;  True  doctrine  that  which 
accords  with  the  essential  facts  of  man’s  spiritual  sur¬ 
roundings,  but  even  such  must  not  be  pressed,  19 6. 

Need  of  charity,  and  of  cultivating  the  art  of  mental 
translation,  196  ;  Much  of  the  language  spoken  in  churches 
an  unknown  tongue,  and  there  is  much  need  of  inter¬ 
preters,  198. 

VI.— THE  BASIS  OF  CHRISTIAN 
DOCTRINE. 

Difficulty  of  the  inquiry,  200. 

I.  Definition  of  the  basis  of  doctrine  by  Dr  Westcott, 
201  ;  It  requires  some  modification,  202 ;  Doctrine  not 
primarily  based  on  historic  record,  facts  being  hard  to 
ascertain,  and  in  themselves  colourless,  but  moulded  by 


XV 


Synopsis  of  Contents 

observation  and  experience,  203  ;  Introspective  psychology 
must,  however,  be  supplemented  by  history,  205. 

II.  Doctrine  consists  of  three  sections:  Theology  proper, 
Christology,  and  Soteriology,  209 ;  Soteriology ,  starting 
from  human  nature,  the  modern  basis,  210;  Religious 
psychology  sometimes  justifies  beliefs  now  regarded  as 
superstitious,  213  ;  Soteriology  based  on  man’s  sense  of  sin, 
and  his  need  of  salvation  :  the  fact  of  conversion  proved 
by  recent  writers  to  be  normal,  214;  The  doctrines  of 
election  and  predestination,  how  far  based  on  facts,  217. 

III.  Theology  proper,  221;  Our  notion  of  God  vastly 
raised  by  the  progress  of  science  :  quotation  from  Natural 
Religion,  222  ;  Also  the  fuller  stream  of  human  life  in 
modern  times  reacts  upon  it,  224 ;  Ancient  theology 
largely  spoiled  by  Greek  tendency  towards  rationalism  and 
rhetoric,  225  ;  But  speculation  on  the  subject  inevitable  in 
the  early  Church,  and  we  cannot  blame  its  limitations,  226. 

Doctrine  cannot  be  directly  reached  either  through 
history  or  psychology  :  they  condition  it,  but  its  roots  lie  in 
practical  life,  228. 

VII.— THE  BASIS  OF  CHRISTOLOGY 

Christology  arises  from  an  attempt  to  combine  two  sets 
of  facts,  230. 

I.  The  speech  of  Peter  in  Acts  sets  side  by  side  the 
human  life  of  Jesus  and  the  exalted  Christ,  without 
examining  the  relations  between  them,  231  ;  So  St  Paul  in 
Philippians,  233 ;  If  the  Apostles  had  been  asked  how 
they  recognised  the  presence  of  their  Master,  they  would 
have  appealed  to  his  appearance  to  them  after  death  in  a 
human  body,  234  ;  St  Paul,  however,  saw  him  in  a  trans- 


xvi  Synopsis  of  Contents 

formed  or  spiritual  body,  235  ;  Such  visions  of  Christ  or  of 
the  Saints  in  the  later  Church,  236  ;  the  early  Christians 
thought  them  either  from  above,  or  delusions  of  Satan  :  we 
ask  whether  they  were  hallucinations,  237. 

II.  In  more  recent  times  visions  rarer,  but  Christians 
still  claim  intercourse  with  a  spiritual  Master,  239  5  The 
world  judges  such  claims  by  the  test  of  fruits,  241  ;  They 
have  not  for  us  the  value  of  proofs  :  but  it  is  impossible  for 
us  to  prove  many  of  the  beliefs  necessary  to  life  in  the 
world :  a  logical  fault  has  to  be  overleapt,  242. 

III.  A  proof  of  the  relation  of  the  Church  to  her 
Founder  must  be  sought  in  the  continuity  of  life  in  her, 
245  ;  This  question  one  should  not  approach  as  an  in¬ 
dividual,  but  as  a  member  of  a  community,  246 ;  Though 
one  could  not  prove  such  continuity  to  a  sceptic,  yet  it  may 
be  vindicated  by  history,  248  ;  Continuity  even  between 
Jesus  and  Paul,  249- 

IV.  The  doctrine  of  Christ  took  continually  a  loftier  and 
more  mystic  tinge,  but  the  humanity  of  Christ  still  insisted 
on,  249;  The  Reformers  less  successful  here,  251;  The 
extremes  to  be  avoided  are  a  merely  humanistic  view  on 
one  side,  and  on  the  other  an  unreal  sublimation,  252. 

VIII.— THE  CHRISTIAN  CHURCH 

The  Church  an  invisible  society,  255. 

I.  Religion  based  on  spiritual  fact,  256 ;  The  Church 
based  on  the  varied  susceptibility  of  men  to  the  super¬ 
conscious,  257  ;  Hence  sacred  books,  258  ;  And  hence  a 
society,  258  ;  The  spirit  of  an  assembly  differs  from  that 
of  its  members,  in  congregations  and  in  general  Councils, 


Synopsis  of  Contents  xvii 

259  ;  the  latter,  however,  perverted  (1)  by  secular  motives, 
(2)  by  speculative  philosophy,  26l. 

II.  The  Church  as  a  reservoir,  264 ;  She  must  vary 
according  to  surroundings,  265  ;  Historic  justification  of 
the  Roman  Supremacy,  266  ;  Outward  unity  at  present 
not  to  be  desired,  267  ;  Rome  impervious  to  change,  268  ; 
Yet  she  adapts  herself  to  some  modern  conditions,  269  ;  In 
fact,  she  adapts  herself  when  she  might  take  a  higher 

line,  269. 

III.  The  Reformed  Churches,  271  ;  Based  on  the  right 
of  every  soul  of  access  to  God,  272  ;  But  had  to  take  up 
Biblical  infallibility  in  opposition  to  that  of  the  Church, 
273  ;  Only  legitimate  appeal  history  and  psychology,  276  ; 
Excess  of  individualism  in  England  and  America  :  each 
person  a  point  in  two  series,  those  of  time  and  place,  277  ; 
Test  of  works  decides  between  churches,  277. 

IV.  The  Anglican  Church,  278  ;  Its  breadth  and  its 
weaknesses,  279;  Outlook  not  very  hopeful,  281. 


IX.— LIBERAL  ANGLICANISM 

We  may  be  loyal  to  a  Church  recognised  as  imper¬ 
fect,  283. 

I.  Liberty  in  the  Anglican  Church  :  the  fruit  of  incon¬ 
sistency,  but  useful,  285  ;  View  of  Comte  as  to  order  in 
age  of  transition,  288  ;  Claim  of  individual  bishops  to 
decide  orthodoxy  inadmissible,  289. 

II.  Nationality  of  Anglican  Church,  292  ;  Why  nation¬ 
ality  backward  in  England,  293;  The  Church  the  nation 
in  a  religious  aspect,  294. 


xviii  Synopsis  of  Contents 

III.  Adherence  to  religious  psychology,  298;  Movements 
in  the  Church,  298  ;  The  evangelical  movement,  Wesley, 
300. 

IV.  The  High  Church  movement,  302 ;  Tended  to  re¬ 
inforce  historicity,  and  reintroduce  valuable  elements 
thrown  away  by  the  Reformers,  304 ;  But  the  movement 
never  took  hold  of  the  people,  307 ;  Weaknesses  of  the 
High  Church  position,  309  ;  Our  relations  to  the  great 
Churchmen  of  the  past,  313;  Scope  for  liberality  in  the 
English  Church,  314. 


I 

MODERNITY  AND  THE  CHURCHES 

In  trying  to  give  some  account  of  what  seem 
to  me  the  new  modes  of  regarding  religion 
which  belong  to  the  new  century,  I  shall 
certainly  make  no  attempt  to  describe  all  the 
new  forces  and  tendencies  working  in  religion 
in  our  day.  F or  example,  one  may  see  a  great 
deal  of  the  influence  on  religion  of  democracy  * — ' 
and  socialism.  The  tendency  of  these  seems 
to  be  to  diminish  the  other-worldliness  of 

Christianity,  and  to  consider  mainly  its  rela- 

% 

tions  to  the  communities  of  men  engaged  in  " 

mundane  pursuits.  We  may  also  observe  in 

almost  all  branches  of  the  Church  a  tendency^ 

towards  unity.  In  Scotland  several  religious 

bodies  have  been  able  to  unite  together,  and 

1  1 


2  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  same  process  is  going  on  in  the  Colonies. 
Since  the  Pan- Anglican  Synod  we  even  see  a 
tendency  to  approximation  between  Episco¬ 
palians  and  Presbyterians.  Of  such  social 
movements  and  changes  I  shall  say  nothing. 
I  shall  speak  only  of  modern  intellectual 
influences  which  affect  religion,  nor  indeed 
of  all  even  of  these,  but  chiefly  of  those 
tendencies  which  are  summed  up  in  the  term 
Modernism,  or  as  I  should  prefer  to  call  it 
Modernity. 

The  term  Modernism  is,  like  almost  all 
such  terms,  invented  by  the  enemies  of  the 
tendency  which  the  term  implies.  But  since 
there  is  nothing  offensive  in  it,  there  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  not,  for  convenience, 
adopt  it.  Modernism  in  the  Roman  Church 
^is  a  recognised  tendency ;  and  we  owe  to  the 
Curia  a  very  able  paper  in  which  its  nature 
and  purposes  are  set  forth,  and  held  up  to  the 
execration  of  the  faithful.  It  may  be  that  the 
authors  of  that  document  have  represented  as 
a  system  the  views  of  a  variety  of  heretics, 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  3 

and  that  no  one  theologian  holds  in  its  en¬ 
tirety  the  whole  scheme  so  neatly  dovetailed 
together.  But  however  that  be,  it  is  cer¬ 
tain  that  most  of  the  views  condemned  in 
the  encyclical  Pascendi  are  in  substance  now 
held  by  priests  of  the  Roman  Church.  What 
is  perhaps  less  generally  recognised  is  that 
views  parallel  to,  if  not  identical  with,  those 
condemned  by  the  Pope  are  to  be  found 
among  the  exponents  of  religion  in  all  branches 
of  the  Christian  Church,  though  as  yet  they 
more  often  exist  in  an  undeveloped  than  in  a 
developed  form. 

Modern  tendency  in  theology  seems  to  be 
made  up  of  two  strands :  a  movement  in  > 
history,  and  a  movement  in  psychology.  The 
precise  connection  of  the  two  is  hard  to 
determine ;  but  that  they  are  sometimes 
united  in  the  same  person,  and  that  they 
belong  to  the  same  phases  of  modern  life,  is 
certain.  The  historical  movement  is  old,  and 
has  been  in  progress  for  centuries.  The 
psychological  movement  is  new :  indeed,  its 


4  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

very  existence  is  in  many  quarters  scarcely 
recognised.  It  is  my  belief  that  whereas, 
taken  by  itself,  the  historic  movement  tends 
to  scepticism  and  negation,  the  psychologic 
movement  acts  as  a  corrective,  and  offers  to 
religious  belief  and  practice  a  new  and  invalu¬ 
able  harbour  of  refuge.  But  I  must  explain. 
And  I  will  first  speak  of  the  historic  side  of 
Modernism. 


i 

Long  ago,  Auguste  Comte  taught  that  the 
various  sciences,  natural  and  human,  are  to  be 
arranged  in  a  hierarchic  or  progressive  series, 
according  to  their  complexity,  and  that  the 
process  of  complete  methodising  spreads  as 
time  goes  on  gradually  from  the  simpler  to 
the  more  complex.  Astronomy  is,  of  all 
sciences  which  have  to  do  with  concrete  fact, 
the  simplest.  The  planets  and  comets  in 
their  motions  proceed  according  to  definite 
laws  which  are  to  be  made  out  by  observation 
and  calculation,  and  which  are  followed  by 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  5 

the  heavenly  bodies  with  perfect  exactness. 
Of  all  the  wonders  recorded  in  the  Old 
Testament  (I  may  in  illustration  observe)  the 
still-standing  of  sun  and  moon  at  the  com¬ 
mand  of  Joshua  strikes  a  modern  mind  as 
most  incongruous  and  impossible.  As  we 
proceed  from  physical  to  biological  sciences, 
and  from  the  latter  to  human  and  sociological 
studies,  we  find  greater  and  greater  com¬ 
plexity  ;  but  by  slow  degrees,  Comte  observed, 
one  field  of  study  after  another  is  recognised 
as  a  province  of  the  realm  of  law,  and  caprice,-^ 
whether  human  or  divine,  is  shut  out.  I  say 
caprice  ;  for  to  deny  Divine  action  in  nature  is 
another  thing. 

Comte  was  one  of  the  greatest  generalises 
that  the  world  has  seen.  And  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  course  of  thought  has  in 
general,  since  he  wrote,  moved  in  the  direction 
which  he  indicated.  We  have  recently  been 
celebrating  the  centenary  of  the  man  who  did 
more  than  anyone  in  his  generation  to  prove 
the  reign  of  law  in  the  development  of  plants 


6  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

and  animals.  And  some  of  the  contempor¬ 
aries  of  Darwin  have  quite  changed  our  way 
of  looking  at  history.  “  History,”  wrote 
Macaulay  in  1828,  “is  a  compound  of  poetry 
and  philosophy  ” ;  and  he  speaks  of  these  as 
“the  two  hostile  elements.”  That  seems  to 
us  a  most  astonishing  statement.  History  is 
everywhere  now  recognised,  though  less  in 
England  than  on  the  Continent,  as  a  branch 
of  science — a  field  in  which  the  play  of  cause 
and  effect,  of  biological  and  sociological  evolu¬ 
tion,  may  be  clearly  seen.  The  heroic  theory 
that  history  is  made  by  great  men  is  receding 
more  and  more  into  the  background.  Their 
influence  cannot  be  denied ;  but  we  see  that 
the  great  men  themselves  often  owe  almost 
everything  to  the  fact  that  they  float  on  a 
wave  of  tendency.  The  respect  for  fact — 
fact  naked  and  unadorned — has  spread  from 
the  physical  sciences  into  the  historic,  and 
has  been  fostered  and  furthered  by  the 
archseologic  and  geographic  and  anthropo¬ 
logic  researches  which  are  now  regarded 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  7 

as  among  the  chief  means  for  the  recovery  of 
past  history. 

All  this  is  sufficiently  familiar,  and  I  feel 
almost  disposed  to  apologise  for  setting  it  forth. 
But  it  is  necessary  to  do  so,  for  the  tendency 
of  which  I  speak  is  one  of  the  two  sources  of 
Modernism.  When  we  look  on  the  history 
and  the  documents  of  the  Christian  Church  in 
this  spirit,  they  completely  change  their  char¬ 
acter,  and  can  no  longer  serve  the  purpose  to 
which  they  were  put  by  our  ancestors.  Chris¬ 
tian  theology  has  usually  maintained,  or  as¬ 
sumed,  that  the  books  of  the  Church  are  books 
supernaturally  inspired  and  not  subject  to 
criticism.  It  has  usually  held  that  the  history 
of  the  Christian  Church  has  been  from  the 
first  a  miraculous  history,  unique  among 
human  phenomena,  not  to  be  compared  with 
the  history  of  any  other  faith.  It  has,  in  a 
word,  looked  on  Christianity  as  the  absolute 
or  perfect  religion,  while  other  religions  are  at 
most  mere  broken  lights,  only  fit  to  cast  their 
beams  a  few  feet  into  surrounding  darkness. 


8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

But  of  modern  historic  science  the  very 
^essence  is  comparison.  It  will  hold  that, 
whether  a  religion  be  good  or  bad  (a  matter 
which  it  does  not  attempt  to  decide),  the  same 
laws  will  be  observed  in  its  working,  and  the 
same  general  course  will  be  observed  in  its 
history.  And  it  will  insist  on  placing  the 
sacred  books  of  Christianity  among  other 
books,  investigating  the  education  and  the 
purposes  of  the  writers,  discerning  the  limita¬ 
tions  of  their  knowledge,  and  the  temporary 
character  of  their  ethics.  Critics  will  analyse 
the  books  of  the  Bible  from  every  point  of 
view — philological,  literary,  cultural,  archaeo¬ 
logical — and  entirely  set  aside  the  traditions  of 
the  Church  as  to  their  authorship  and  mean¬ 
ing  unless  those  traditions  can  produce  evi¬ 
dence  in  their  favour  which  will  satisfy  the 
keen  eyes  of  the  modern  expert. 

When,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  great 
revolt  of  the  Teutonic  races  against  the  re¬ 
ligious  domination  of  Rome  took  place,  it  was 
not  on  points  such  as  these  that  the  great 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  9 

Reformers  broke  away  from  the  traditions 
of  the  Church.  The  Bible  was  freely  cited  by 
the  controverters  on  both  sides ;  but  it  was  a 
Bible  read  without  historic  criticism,  and  in 
the  judgment  of  the  moderns  utterly  mis¬ 
understood.  As  regards  the  history  of  the 
Church,  the  early  Protestants  did,  no  doubt, 
do  something  to  draw  nearer  to  historic  fact. 
But  the  great  method  of  comparison  and  the 
great  idea  of  evolution  were  as  little  under¬ 
stood  by  them  as  by  their  Roman  opponents. 
They  thought  that  truth  had  been  definitely 
revealed  to  man,  and  committed  to  sacred 
books ;  and  their  only  care  was  to  work  back 
to  a  primitive  revelation  which  was  no  work 
of  man,  and  which  man  had  no  right  to  ques¬ 
tion  in  any  respect. 

I  need  not  attempt  to  trace  the  gradual  rise 
of  scientific  Biblical  criticism.  At  present  its 
supremacy  is,  so  far  as  words  go,  almost  un¬ 
disputed.  All  the  Churches,  or  at  least  the 
more  highly  educated  authorities  in  every 
Church,  appeal  to  it  with  confidence,  and  main- 


io  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

tain  that,  when  used  with  wisdom  and  modera¬ 
tion,  it  supports  the  views  which  they  hold. 
Even  the  Pope  appoints  a  commission  to  re¬ 
consider  the  question  of  the  authorship  of  the 
Pentateuch.  The  Moderates  in  our  country 
are  fond  of  speaking  in  disparaging  terms  of 
the  results  of  extreme  German  criticism  ;  but 
they  would  say  that  it  is  not  the  principles  of 
criticism  to  which  they  object,  but  only  to 
their  application  without  wisdom  and  common 
sense.  The  court  is  recognised  by  all ;  but 
the  various  advocates  have  different  interests 
to  uphold.  Loisy  and  Harnack,  Sanday  and 
Driver,  Holtzmann  and  Van  Manen,  all  claim 
to  follow  the  most  scientific  methods  of 
criticism,  and  to  reach  the  results  to  which 
those  methods  lead. 

The  question  naturally  arises,  Whence  comes 
the  great  divergence  in  the  results,  when  the 
starting-point  is  the  same?  It  may  be  answered 
that  there  is  a  like  divergence  in  the  results 
reached  by  workers  in  many  fields  of  science. 
There  are  schools  in  biology  and  even  in 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  1 1 

chemistry,  as  there  are  in  Biblical  criticism ; 
and  the  quarrels  of  the  schools  are  almost  as 
keen  in  our  academies  and  schools  of  science  as 
they  are  in  the  theological  world.  This  is 
true ;  but  it  is  a  very  superficial  account  of 
the  matter.  Mere  intellectual  divergences  are 
frequent  among  scientific  researchers.  But 
they  seldom  become  keen  and  heated  unless 
to  the  intellectual  friction  some  opposition  of 
a  more  personal  and  practical  kind  is  added. 
The  mere  love  of  truth  does  not  often  set 
professors  at  loggerheads,  unless  there  is  added 
some  personal  rivalry,  some  national  animosity, 
or  some  traditional  jealousy.  Now  it  must 
be  allowed  that  in  the  field  of  theology  there 
are  other  causes  disposing  to  animosity  besides 
the  love  of  truth  and  personal  rivalries.  We 
have  a  new  and  strong  element  introduced 
which  comes  from  the  realm  of  conduct.  A 
theologian  is  usually  convinced  that  his  views 
as  to  Biblical  criticism  and  Church  history  are 
not  only  the  most  trustworthy  from  the 
scientific  point  of  view,  but  also  the  most  in 


12  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

accord  with  a  Christian  life  and  the  constitu¬ 
tion  of  his  Church. 

I  have  put  together  in  this  aspect  of  things 
criticism  of  the  Bible  and  views  on  Church 
history.  In  a  sense,  the  former  of  these  may 
be  considered  only  a  province  of  the  latter,  as 
the  earliest  Church  history  is  contained  in 
books  of  the  Bible,  and  the  relation  of  the 
Church  to  her  sacred  books  is  an  important 
branch  of  her  history.  But  yet  it  is  important 
to  maintain  the  distinction,  in  view  of  the 
attitude  taken  up  by  some  Modernists, 
especially  in  France.  These  theologians  are 
able  to  use  the  very  freest  hand  in  Biblical 
criticism,  because  they  are  convinced  that 
the  Church  is  a  continuous  and  authorised 
guardian  of  theological  truth,  and  that  the 
appeal  for  such  truth  to  the  Bible  is  of  less 
importance. 

It  is,  however,  difficult  to  put  the  infalli¬ 
bility  of  the  Church  in  the  place  of  Biblical  in¬ 
fallibility.  If  the  Church  be  infallible,  her 
word  has  from  the  first  maintained  the  infalli- 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  1 3 

bility  of  Scripture.  It  is  impossible  altogether 
to  invert  the  Protestant  position,  and  to  hold 
that  Christianity  started  as  a  very  fallible  in¬ 
stitution,  but  attained  infallibility  after  the 
Apostolic  age.  This  is,  of  course,  not  the 
view  of  the  great  leaders.  Newman  adhered 
to  the  view  which  attributes  a  continuous 
inspiration  of  the  Church  from  first  to  last. 
And  even  Mr  Tyrrell,  in  his  recent  utterances, 
speaks  of  the  New  Testament  as  a  deposit  of 
truth  which  can  scarcely  be  tampered  with— 
by  subsequent  generations. 

One  sees,  however,  that  a  belief  in  the 
gradual  consolidation  of  religious  truth  by  the 
visible  Church  is  only  an  exaggeration  of  the 
evolutional  view  of  Christianity,  which  was 
first  systematically  brought  forward  by  New¬ 
man  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and 
which  has  now  a  strong  hold  upon  thoughtful 
minds.  That  Christianity  first  appeared  in 
the  world  in  rudimentary  form,  as  a  grain  of 
mustard  seed,  and  gradually  grew  into  a  great 
plant  of  the  same  species,  is  a  view  which 


14  Modernity  and  the  Churches 


attracts  many,  not  only  in  the  Roman  Church  ; 
and  one  may  fairly  divide  what  may  be  called 
the  evolutional  schools  of  Church  history  into 
two  classes,  whereof  one  will  dwell  more  on 
the  continuity  of  life  between  seed  and  tree, 
and  the  predestined  determination  of  the  kind 
of  tree  by  the  seed,  while  the  other  school  will 
make  more  of  the  outward  conditions  of  soil 
and  circumstance  which  externally  limit  and 
determine  the  manner  of  growth. 

I  need  not,  however,  further  speak  of  the 
spread  and  general  acceptance  of  the  methods 
of  historic  criticism  as  applied  to  Christian 
documents  and  history.  As  I  have  observed, 
in  theory  everyone  agrees  in  this  matter. 
What  I  am  more  anxious  to  draw  your 
attention  to  is  the  limitations  with  which  in 
the  mind  of  every  Christian  teacher  known  to 
me  the  appeal  to  criticism  is  fenced. 

It  must  be  fairly  clear  to  everyone  that  if 
the  principle  of  comparison  is  carried  to  its 
utmost  length,  the  resemblances  between 
Christianity  and  other  religions,  especially 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  1 5 

Buddhism,  will  appear  so  great  and  manifold 
that  Christianity  will  cease  to  be  in  a  class  by 
itself,  and  be  in  danger  of  being  lost  in  the 
crowd.  If  the  extremely  severe  and  sceptical 
methods  of  modern  literary  criticism  are 
brought  to  bear  on  the  Gospels  and  Epistles 
they  will  become  a  mere  struggling-ground 
for  an  infinite  variety  of  conjectures  and 
theories,  each  of  which  is  very  formidable  to 
its  rivals,  but  wants  power  to  establish  itself  in 
possession.  If  the  history  of  the  Church  is 
treated  in  exactly  the  same  cold  and  unpre¬ 
judiced  way  in  which  the  growth  of  purely 
secular  institutions  is  regarded,  we  shall  follow 
it  without  any  of  those  emotional  glows  with 
which  as  Christians  we  cannot  dispense.  Our 
ideas  as  to  Christianity  need  colour  as  well  as 
form,  warmth  as  well  as  light.  In  a  word,  a 
man’s  view  of  the  origins  and  history  of  his 
own  faith  cannot  have  the  completely  even- 
handed  simplicity  which  it  might  have  if  one 
were  a  learned  Mohammedan  or  Buddhist. 
Are  we  to  set  down  this  frame  of  mind  as 


1 6  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

mere  prejudice?  This  question  is  at  least 
well  worth  asking  ;  and  I  hope  to  furnish  some 
kind  of  answer  to  it  in  treating  of  the  other 
source  of  Modernism,  the  psychological. 


n 

Though  the  last  intellectualist  philosophy 
which  has  exercised  great  influence  in  Europe, 
that  of  Hegel,  has  still  adherents,  and  still 
affects  thought  in  England  and  Scotland,  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  its  influence  has  diminished 
and  is  diminishing.  Its  place  has  been  taken 
by  a  variety  of  other  tendencies.  The  Roman 
Curia  has  harked  back  to  the  philosophy  of 
Thomas  Aquinas,  which  has  been  put  in  a 
favoured  position  in  the  Roman  Colleges.  In 
Germany  and  France  several  varieties  of 
Neo- Kantian  thought  have  made  their  appear¬ 
ance.  And  Schopenhauer  is  still  a  consider¬ 
able  force.  But  the  most  significance  for  the 
future  belongs  to  a  way  of  thought  which 
prevails  in  many  schools,  the  chief  character- 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  17 

istic  of  which  is  a  profound  disbelief  in  the 
speculative  faculty  of  the  human  intellect,  and 
a  growing  emphasis  laid  on  the  practical  and  ^ 
volitional  side  of  man. 

The  tendency  of  religious  thought  in  our 
day  is  to  take  its  start,  not  from  abstract  pro¬ 
positions  in  regard  to  God  and  the  spiritual 
world,  nor  to  develop  a  scheme  of  theology 
out  of  sacred  writings,  but  to  begin  with 
experience  and  the  facts  of  human  nature, 
searching  out  what  they  imply  in  regard  to  an 
overruling  spiritual  Power  and  our  relation  to 
it.  Such  books  as  William  James’s  Varieties 
of  Religious  Experience  show  the  way  in  which 
theology  is  drifting,  and  at  the  same  time  tend 
to  further  the  drift.  They  come  to  many  with 
a  force  and  appropriateness  which  is  over¬ 
powering.  Mr  James  himself  has  told  me  of 
the  numerous  letters  which  he  has  received 
from  members  of  all  Churches  —  Roman, 
Anglican,  and  Nonconformist — saying  that  he 
has  met  one  of  their  most  pressing  needs,  and 

placed  for  them  religion  in  a  position  of  greater 

2 


1 8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

stability.  It  may  be  regarded  as  a  new 
form  of  the  argument  from  design.  Since 
man  has  deeply  seated  in  him  a  craving 
for  what  is  spiritual,  and  needs  which  only 
religion  can  meet,  this  is  a  proof  that  he 
was  born  for  faith,  and  that  the  world  must 
be  so  arranged  as  to  fit  into  human  capacity 
in  these  respects. 

It  is  not  hard  to  see  that  if  man’s  stand¬ 
point  in  religion  be  anthropocentric  rather 
than  theocentric,  many  of  the  most  note¬ 
worthy  features  of  modern  religion  follow 
naturally.  For  example,  from  this  point  of 
view  one  lays  more  stress  on  the  immanence 
than  on  the  transcendence  of  God,  though  one 
need  not  deny  the  Divine  transcendence. 
And  this  is  certainly  a  marked  feature  in 
many  modern  schools  of  religion.  One  is  also 
disposed  to  lay  more  emphasis  on  the  life  of 
religion  than  on  the  creed,  on  organisation 
and  discipline  than  on  speculative  thought. 
And  thus  there  flows  in  upon  all  the  Churches 
a  stream  of  that  very  wide  and  deep  tendency 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  19 

of  modern  thought  which  goes  by  the  name 
of  pragmatism. 

Of  course  the  pragmatist  tendency  in 
thought  has  not  sprung  suddenly  into  being. 

'N 

Its  origin  may  indeed  be  traced  very  far  back. 
Even  in  Aristotle  we  may  discern  some  re¬ 
action  against  the  purely  intellectualist  views 
of  Plato,  which  almost  entirely  neglect  to 
take  account  of  the  will.  The  Neo-Platonists 
go  further  than  Aristotle  in  appreciation  of 
the  volitional  side  of  man.  And  modern 
philosophy,  from  its  very  origin  in  the  brain 
of  Descartes,  is  less  intellectualist  than  was 
ancient.  In  Kant’s  Critique  of  the  Practical 
Reason  we  have  will  and  purpose  much 
more  fully  appreciated  as  not  less  important 
in  the  human  constitution  than  the  cognitive 
faculties.  Since  Kant,  philosophers  have  gone 
two  ways  in  Germany.  In  one  direction  we 
have  the  purely  idealist  and  intellectualist 
philosophies  of  Schelling  and  Hegel ;  in  the 
other  direction  the  philosophy  of  Schopen¬ 
hauer  and  Hartmann,  in  which  will  plays  a 


20  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

far  greater  part  and  the  intellect  a  less  part. 
The  tendency  of  Comtism  in  France,  and  of 
the  philosophies  of  Mill  and  Spencer  in 
England,  has  been  sharply  to  emphasise  the 
limits  placed  by  nature  to  the  range  of  the 
human  intellect,  and  to  lay  stress  upon  the 
ocean  of  the  unknowable  which  on  all  sides 
bounds  the  narrow  field  of  the  knowable. 
From  the  contact  of  agnosticism,  which  has 
so  widely  spread  among  thoughtful  men,  with 
the  ideas  which  have  of  late  been  flowing 
from  the  science  of  biology  into  the  sphere  of 
human  science  and  of  history,  there  has  arisen 
a  view  of  life  which  we  may  perhaps  best  call 
the  pragmatist.  No  one  person  can  be  fairly 
credited  with  its  origination  ;  one  may  trace 
it  showing  through  many  recent  works  on 
philosophy,  on  history,  on  social  science,  on 
the  theory  of  religion.  It  is  in  the  air,  and 
spreads  like  an  infection  from  country  to 
country  and  from  school  to  school. 

Pragmatism,  like  such  principles  generally, 
may  be  applied  in  two  ways — in  the  indicative 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  2 1 

and  in  the  imperative  mood.  When  used  in 
the  indicative,  it  asserts  that  man’s  practical 
faculties  are  primary  in  his  constitution ;  that 
conduct  and  action  are  the  main  strands  of 
the  cord  of  life ;  that  human  beings  are 
adapted  rather  to  action  than  to  speculation  ; 
that  it  is  practical  needs  which  are  the  main¬ 
spring  of  the  human  machine.  When  used 
in  the  imperative,  it  asserts  that  it  is  right, 
or  at  all  events  necessary,  to  govern  action 
by  these  facts ;  that  success  will  belong  to 
those  who  rightly  apprehend  the  essentially 
active  character  of  man  ;  that  whatever  meets 
and  supplies  his  practical  needs  will  certainly 
survive,  and  prove  victorious  over  what 
merely  seems  satisfactory  to  the  intelligence. 

The  real  source  of  pragmatism  lies  in  new 
views  on  psychology,  and  indeed  on  physi¬ 
ology.  This  is  nowhere  better  expressed  than 
in  Professor  William  James’s  Will  to  Believe. 
He  writes  : 1  4 4  Most  physiologists  tell  us  that 
every  action  whatever,  even  the  most  deliber- 

1  P.  113.  I  abridge. 


22  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

ately  weighed  and  calculated,  does,  so  far  as 
its  organic  conditions  go,  follow  the  reflex 
type.  There  is  no  one  of  those  complicated 
performances  in  the  convolutions  of  the  brain 
to  which  our  trains  of  thought  correspond, 
which  is  not  a  mere  middle  term  interposed 
between  an  incoming  sensation  that  arouses 
it  and  an  outgoing  discharge  of  some  sort, 
inhibitory  if  not  exciting,  to  which  it  gives 
rise.  The  sensory  impression  exists  only  for 
the  sake  of  awaking  the  central  process  of 
reflection,  and  the  central  process  of  reflection 
exists  only  for  the  sake  of  calling  forth  the 
final  act.  All  action  is  thus  reaction  upon 
the  outer  world ;  and  the  middle  stage  of 
consideration  or  contemplation  or  thinking 
is  only  a  place  of  transit,  the  bottom  of  a 
loop,  both  whose  ends  have  their  point  of 
application  in  the  outer  world.  The  current 
of  life  which  runs  in  at  our  eyes  and  ears  is 
meant  to  run  out  at  our  hands,  feet,  or  lips. 
The  willing  department  of  our  nature,  in 
short,  dominates  both  the  conceiving  depart- 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  23 

ment  and  the  feeling  department.  I  am  sure 
I  am  not  wrong  in  stating  this  result  as  one 
of  the  fundamental  conclusions  to  which  the 
entire  drift  of  modern  physiological  investiga¬ 
tion  sweeps  us.” 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  any  more  complete 
upsetting  than  that  wrought  by  the  accept¬ 
ance  of  the  principle  of  pragmatism  in  our 
religious  outlook.  We  have  been  accustomed 
to  suppose  that  we  accept  religious  doctrines 
and  beliefs  either  in  deference  to  the  opinion 
of  some  recognised  authority,  or  else  because 
they  are  established  by  reason  and  argument. 
And  we  usually  think  that  all  people  ought, 
if  they  were  reasonable,  to  accept  our  views : 
the  only  grounds  on  which  they  reject  them 
arise  from  prejudice  and  unreason,  or  perhaps 
from  sheer  perversity.  But  according  to  the 
pragmatist  way  of  regarding  things,  this  is  to 
attribute  far  too  great  power  to  human  in¬ 
telligence,  and  greatly  to  underrate  the  part 
played  in  religion  by  emotion,  by  will,  by  life 
with  all  its  hopes  and  fears,  its  purposes  and 


2\  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

prejudices.  Religious  beliefs,  doctrine  and 
ritual,  sacraments,  even  organisation,  are  the 
fruit  of  the  tree,  not  its  roots.  The  roots  are 
religious  ideas  and  tendencies  which  were 
framed  for  us  by  our  ancestors  in  many 
generations,  and  which  we  absorbed  with  our 
mothers’  milk,  or  even  before  we  had  arrived 
at  an  independent  existence.  When  we  are 
born  we  are  not  a  blank  sheet,  but  a  sheet 
written  all  over  in  invisible  characters  which 
gradually  become  legible  as  we  are  exposed 
to  the  fire  of  life.  We  have  (it  is  true)  a 
certain  power  of  self-modification — man  is  not 
an  automaton — but  such  modification  is  but 
in  a  lesser  degree  the  result  of  education  and 
of  reasoning :  in  a  far  greater  degree  it  is  the 
result  of  the  resistances  and  buffetings  of  life 
itself — the  fruit  of  hope  and  fear,  of  passion 
and  disappointment,  of  friendship  and  love, 
of  struggles  for  a  livelihood  and  for  self¬ 
development.  The  course  of  life  modifies 
our  primal  ideas  and  tendencies,  and  hence 
come  changes  in  our  religious  outlook,  in  our 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  25 

beliefs  and  hopes,  which  far  more  fully  ex¬ 
press  experience  than  reasoning,  and  character 
than  logic. 

The  notion  of  absolute  morality  and  of 
absolute  truth  has  to  go.  In  the  place  of  it 
we  have  relative  truth  and  relative  morality : 
relative  at  best  to  the  essentials  of  human 
nature,  at  the  lowest  to  the  features  of  nation 
or  social  group,  or  even  of  our  individual 
selves. 

When  one  tries  to  think  out  the  results  of 
this  change  of  attitude,  they  may  at  first  seem 
appalling  in  their  scepticism.  For  it  at  once 
results  from  such  a  biological  view  of  religion 
that  no  religion  can  possibly  have  succeeded 
unless  it  fitted  into  facts  of  human  nature, 
and  had  in  that  way  a  certain  relative  truth. 
Thus  religion  may  seem  to  be  a  matter  of 
nationality,  of  circumstance,  of  temperament. 
It  appears  that  in  the  history  of  Christianity 
just  as  in  the  evolution  of  animals  and  plants, 
those  schools  and  forms  of  doctrine  survived 
and  were  successful  which  were  best  suited  to 


26  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  surrounding  conditions,  good,  bad  or  in¬ 
different  ;  that  heresies  could  only  perish  if 
they  could  not  thrive  amid  their  surroundings  ; 
that  survival  and  success  are  the  tests  of 
religious  truth ;  that  faiths  are  to  be  judged, 
like  policies,  by  the  amount  of  consent  with 
which  they  meet  when  referred  to  the  people. 

But  the  first  impression  of  the  immorality, 
or  rather  the  moral  indifference,  of  the 
pragmatist  standard  wears  away  when  we 
consider  certain  aspects  of  it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  observed  that 
if  life  offers  no  absolute  test  of  religious  truth, 
no  more  does  intellect.  If  in  the  course  of 
ages  men  had  generally  come  to  an  agreement 
which  religious  beliefs  were  most  reasonable, 
there  would  no  doubt  be  a  presumption  of  the 
truth  of  those  beliefs.  But  the  very  contrary 
is  the  case.  After  all  the  controversy  and 
wrangling  of  successive  ages  the  differences  of 
view  among  mankind  as  to  the  truth  of  all  the 
fundamental  principles  of  religion  remain  very 
much  as  they  were.  Indeed  on  most  points. 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  27 

such  as  the  intervention  of  Providence  in 
mundane  affairs,  the  hope  of  a  future  life,  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ,  there  is  a  far  greater 
divergency  of  views  among  us  than  among  our 
ancestors.  Books  on  one  side  or  the  other  of 
these  great  problems  are  constantly  appearing  ; 
but  they  convince  only  those  ready  to  be  con¬ 
vinced,  and  make  small  impression  on  general 
belief.  Any  view  more  hopeless  for  the  future 
than  that  of  those  who  think  that  there  is  only 
one  right  way  of  religious  thought,  and  that 
mankind  can  be  argued  into  accepting  that 
way,  I  confess  myself  unable  to  imagine.  The 
tests  of  life  and  of  results,  however  unsatis¬ 
factory,  are  at  least  more  hopeful  than  this. 

And  further,  though  what  we  may  call  the 
biologic  view  of  religion  does,  when  accepted 
in  a  hasty  and  superficial  fashion,  seem  to  lead 
to  indifference  and  scepticism,  it  may,  when 
combined  with  a  more  lofty  and  spiritual  out¬ 
look  upon  life,  take  another  character. 

If  we  are  to  judge  the  truth  of  religious 
beliefs  by  the  tests  of  success  and  survival,  we 


28  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

must  take  a  sufficiently  broad  and  compre¬ 
hensive  view  of  history.  The  Christologic 
views  of  St  Paul  met  with  a  very  moderate 
degree  of  acceptance  in  his  own  time,  and  led 
him  at  last  to  a  martyr’s  death  at  Rome.  So 
far  they  seem  to  have  been  unsuccessful.  But 
then  consider  the  power  which  they  have 
exercised  in  all  ages  in  the  Christian  Church, 
how  they  have  been  a  light  and  a  leading  to 
multitudes,  and  to  the  great  teachers  of  the 
Church  ;  how  they  have  been  rediscovered  in 
successive  periods  by  Augustine,  by  Anselm, 
by  Luther,  by  Jansen.  Is  not  the  martyrdom 
of  Paul  made  a  splendid  success  by  the  history 
of  Christianity,  just  as  the  martyrdom  of 
Leonidas  was  made  a  splendid  success  by  its 
effect  on  the  morale  of  Sparta  ? 

Or  consider  such  an  institution  as  monasti- 
cism.  At  first  sight  it  seems  condemned  from 
the  biological  point  of  view,  because  it  took 
away  from  society  multitudes  of  the  nobler 
and  more  unselfish  natures,  and  prevented  them 
from  propagating  their  race.  It  lived  by 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  29 

absorbing  some  of  the  best  blood  of  the  com¬ 
munity.  And  yet  the  historian,  who  considers 
how  in  an  age  of  violence  and  rapine  the 
monasteries  protected  the  finer  spirits  of  the 
race  from  destruction,  and  kept  alive  amid 
barbarous  surroundings  the  dying  embers  of 
culture  until  they  were  again  fanned  into  a 
flame  by  the  fresh  air  of  the  Renaissance,  the 
historian,  I  say,  will  be  very  rash  if  he  decides 
that  monasticism  was  not,  on  the  whole,  of  great 
value  to  Europe.  The  people  who  in  our  day 
speak  disparagingly  of  monasticism  are  not  the 
historians,  but  the  men  in  the  street,  who  judge 
hastily  that  what  under  present  conditions  may 
lack  sufficient  justification  (though  even  this 
may  be  disputed)  could  not  have  been  justified 
by  the  circumstances  of  a  past  age.  Their 
judgment  is  in  the  absolute,  not  the  relative 
mood. 

But  the  really  critical  question  is  whether 
the  biologic  test  is  accepted  in  conjunction 
with,  and  subject  to,  a  belief  in  the  Divine 
working  in  the  world  and  a  Divine  control  of 


30  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  course  of  history.  This  is  a  matter,  in  my 
opinion,  as  regards  which  intellect  is  compara¬ 
tively  indifferent.  Good  reasons  may  be  given 
for  maintaining  and  for  denying  such  working 
and  control.  It  is  not  from  intellect,  but  from 
the  experience  of  life  acting  in  conjunction 
with  a  certain  inner  illumination,  that  a  man 
comes  to  believe  in  them.  If  he  does  not 
believe  in  them,  then,  from  the  biological  or 
pragmatist,  as  from  any  other  point  of  view, 
the  world  will  seem  to  move  at  random,  and 
all  religion  to  be  an  unproved  hypothesis. 
But  if  he  does  accept  them,  then  it  will  be 
perfectly  natural  for  him  to  see  Divine  in¬ 
spiration  in  fact  of  history  as  readily  as  the 
believers  in  the  inspiration  of  Scripture  see 
it  in  the  Biblical  setting  forth  of  moral  and 
spiritual  truth. 

In  fact,  the  introduction  of  a  pragmatic 
point  of  view  into  religious  psychology  has  a 
strongly  conservative  effect.  For  whereas  the 
intellectual  surroundings  and  outlook  vary 
greatly  from  generation  to  generation,  man  as 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  31 

an  emotional  and  conative  being,  as  desiring 
and  willing,  does  not  greatly  change,  has  not 
greatly  changed  in  the  whole  course  of  history, 
cannot  greatly  change  without  ceasing  to  be 
man.  Thus  it  is  that  in  regard  to  religious 
needs  and  spiritual  experience  men  of  all  ages 
are  essentially  alike :  some  of  the  Psalms 
appeal  to  us  as  if  they  were  written  yesterday, 
and  the  mental  history  of  an  Augustine  or  a 
Luther  can  never  be  uninteresting.  It  is  on 
this  broad  basis  of  man  as  capable  of  religion 
and  in  need  of  religion  that  all  the  faiths  are 
based.  And  it  is  to  this  permanent  element 
in  humanity  that  all  the  great  religious  teachers 
make  their  appeal.  They  have  to  use  language 
which  varies  from  age  to  age,  but  the  religious 
feelings  and  the  facts  of  conduct  to  which  they 
appeal  are  fixed.  And  the  relations  between 
the  individual  and  the  spiritual  environment 
remain  permanent  through  all  changes  of 
civilisation.  The  great  religious  genius  is 
steeped  in  the  permanent,  and  he  brings  from 
heaven  to  earth  a  sense  of  the  relation  of  man 


3  2  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

to  the  unseen  which  is  perpetuated  by  his 
adherents  through  generation  after  generation. 


in 

It  may  perhaps  not  readily  appear  why 
there  should  be  any  real  connection  between 
the  more  rigorous  views  of  history  of  which  I 
spoke  at  the  beginning  of  this  address  and 
the  pragmatist  religious  views  which  I  have 
next  discussed.  The  bond  of  connection  is, 
however,  I  think  quite  clear.  It  lies  in  the 
modern  feeling,  one  may  almost  say  fanati¬ 
cism,  of  the  sacredness  of  fact.  If  history  is 
to  become,  as  it  must  become  to  the  prag¬ 
matist,  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  heretofore, 
the  touchstone  of  good  and  evil  in  ethics, 
and  even  in  beliefs,  in  rites,  and  in  institutions, 
how  infinitely  important  it  becomes  that  we 
should  learn  what  has  really  taken  place  in 
the  past  history  of  mankind  !  History  is  no 
longer  to  us  a  branch  of  humane  letters,  nor 
a  mere  subject  of  intellectual  curiosity,  but  a 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  33 

matter  of  the  most  vital  moment.  The  lives 
of  our  ancestors  are  continuous  with  our  own  : 
we  fight  over  again  the  battles  by  which  they 
rose  to  a  higher  grade  of  existence  ;  our  hopes 
and  fears  are  a  repetition  of  their  hopes  and 
fears ;  the  work  which  they  began  remains 
for  us  to  carry  on,  and  so  accomplish  the  will 
of  the  great  Spirit  of  the  Universe.  If  so, 
it  is  impossible  that  we  can  too  precisely 
know  and  too  fully  realise  every  detail  of 
this  past,  for  us  so  full  of  instruction  and  of 
encouragement. 

Passing  from  history  to  psychology,  we  find 
the  value  of  the  fact  no  less  overpowering. 
Our  religious  beliefs,  the  course  of  our  politics, 
the  nature  of  our  institutions — all  these  are 
not  so  much  to  be  argued  out  from  first 
principles,  or  to  be  taken  on  authority,  as  to 
be  determined  by  a  careful  consideration  of 
the  results  of  each  of  them  in  life,  and  their 
fruits  of  good  or  of  evil. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  is  but  the  Utili¬ 
tarian  scheme  of  ethics.  I  should  prefer  to 

3 


34  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

hold  that  it  goes  in  origin  far  behind  the  very 
modern  school  of  Utilitarianism,  and  is  im¬ 
plicitly  taught  in  the  great  saying,  “  By  their 
fruits  ye  shall  know  them.”  But  really  Prag¬ 
matism  differs  from  Utilitarianism  because  it 
avoids  the  fatal  flaws  of  the  latter.  The 
scheme  of  the  Utilitarians  is  too  individualist : 
it  was  the  good  of  individuals  rather  than 
that  of  the  society  or  the  race  which  it  made 
into  the  test  of  virtue.  It  was  too  intellectu- 
alist :  it  was  content  with  determining  the 
path  of  right,  without  seeking  the  stimulus 
which  should  lead  men  to  pursue  the  right 
and  avoid  the  wrong.  And  it  was  far  too 
short-sighted,  at  least  in  origin,  too  much  set 
on  what  was  obviously  and  temporarily  ex¬ 
pedient  :  it  did  not  take  into  account  the  long 
stretches  of  history  and  the  essentially  spiritual 
nature  of  man.  In  fact  it  originated  with  the 
jurist  Bentham,  and  has  never  wholly  lost  the 
wig  and  gown  of  the  lawyer. 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  35 


IV 


Let  us,  however,  come  back  to  our  more  im¬ 
mediate  subject,  modernism  in  religion.  The 
Roman  Modernists,  treading  in  the  footsteps 
of  Newman,  have  discovered  that  pragmat¬ 
ism,  combined  with  the  doctrine  of  evolution, 
may  be  applied  to  justify  the  past  history  of 
their  Church,  and  to  support  its  continued 
inspiration.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  main¬ 
tain,  the  action  of  the  Church  in  the  past,  in 
establishing  a  system,  in  setting  up  sacraments, 
in  promulgating  dogmas  has  been  guided  to 
meet  existing  circumstances.  It  has  been  the 
continued  self-modification  of  an  organism  to 
adapt  itself  to  changes  in  the  surroundings. 
We  may  fully  allow  the  validity,  within 
certain  limits,  of  the  argument.  It  does  not, 
however,  reach  to  the  support  of  the  infalli¬ 
bility  of  the  Church,  but  only  proves  that  it 
has  been  a  living  institution  suited  for  survival. 
But  do  we,  it  may  fairly  be  said,  see  much 
of  this  historic  plasticity  in  the  present  attitude 


36  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

of  the  Roman  Church  ?  Is  it  not,  on  the 
contrary,  maintaining  an  attitude  of  non - 
jpossumus  towards  the  life,  moral  and  in¬ 
tellectual,  of  the  new  age  ? 

And  on  the  other  hand  it  is  clear,  though 
the  Roman  Modernists  fail  to  see  it,  that  the 
same  argument  from  plasticity  and  survival 
may  be  used,  not  only  in  the  case  of  Judaism 
and  Islam  (so  far  even  Newman  was  ready  to 
go),  but  by  the  adherents  of  all  the  other 
branches  of  the  Christian  Church.  They  too 
have  changed  and  survived.  The  Eastern 
Church  has  kept  alive,  under  Turkish  tyranny, 
the  Christian  nationalities  of  Eastern  Europe. 
The  Reformed  Churches  came  into  being  in 
consequence  of  the  extreme  corruption  of  the 
Western  Church,  which  but  for  them  and  the 
reaction  which  they  caused  would  probably 
have  perished  utterly.  And  these  new 
branches  of  the  Christian  Society  have 
flourished,  and  done  a  great  work  in  north 
Europe  and  in  America.  They  too  can  appeal 
to  the  test  of  fruits.  The  principle  of  prag- 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  37 

matism,  then,  is  by  no  means  only  fit  for  re¬ 
ception  by  the  modern  Romanists,  but  may 
be  appealed  to  in  a  far  wider  circle. 

Modern  principles  of  criticism  in  regard  to 
the  Bible  and  early  Church  history  are,  it 
must  be  confessed,  not  easy  to  reconcile  either 
with  the  fixed  attitude  of  the  Roman  Church 
or  with  the  beliefs  which  were  adopted  by 
the  great  Reformers,  and  which  are  still 
accepted  by  the  great  mass  of  Protestants. 
Their  acceptance  must  needs  compel  Romans 
and  Protestants  alike  to  shift  their  ground. 
Those  who  judge  on  principles  of  Rationalism 
would  naturally  expect  the  change  of  view  to 
be  fatal  to  both  schools  of  religion.  But  in 
fact  they  are  only  fatal  to  them  when  they 
proceed  on  the  absolutist  or  intellectualist 
principle.  When  we  accept  pragmatist  views 
of  religion,  religion  becomes  a  thing  so  in¬ 
finitely  more  elastic  and  adaptable  that  it 
easily  survives  the  transplanting. 

Take,  for  example,  that  doctrine  which 
belongs  to  all  really  effective  religions,  the 


38  Modernity  and  the  Churches 


doctrine  of  human  sin  and  Divine  forgiveness. 
It  was  one  of  the  misfortunes  of  the  early 
Christian  Church  that  it  took  too  literally 
the  stories  of  the  Jewish  Scriptures.  Thus  it 
bound  up  the  whole  doctrine  of  sin  with  the 
historicity  of  the  tale  of  Adam  and  Eve  in 
Paradise,  and  regarded  man’s  tendency  to  fall 
away  from  the  Divine  will  as  a  consequence 
of  the  eating  of  the  forbidden  fruit.  A  few 
generations  ago  it  was  often  regarded  as  an 
abandonment  of  Christianity  if  one  rejected 
the  early  history  in  Genesis.  But  now  almost 
everyone  has  come  to  see  that  one  may  carry 
historic  criticism  so  far  at  least  without  giving 
up  Christian  teaching  in  regard  to  man’s  need 
of  Divine  mercy  and  pardon. 


-  Or  take  one  of  the  great  doctrines  which  are 
more  special  to  Christianity.  The  doctrine  of 
the  Incarnation,  for  instance,  has  been  built 
upon  an  historical  basis,  upon  a  supposed 
miraculous  event — the  virgin  birth — and  has 
been  supported  by  forming  a  sort  of  frame¬ 
work  of  passages  of  Scripture  culled  here  and 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  39 

there  without  regard  to  the  authorship  or  the 
purpose  of  the  treatises  from  which  they  are 
taken.  Historic  criticism  begins  by  setting 
aside  the  miracle  as  practically  without 
evidence,  and  proceeds  to  show  that  the 
passages  of  Scripture  can  only  be  understood 
in  relation  to  the  thought  of  the  time.  But 
when,  instead  of  abandoning  the  doctrine  of 
the  Incarnation  as  refuted,  we  inquire  why  it 
arose  in  the  early  Church,  and  to  what  deep 
needs  of  human  nature  it  stands  related,  we 
see  that  though  it  may  need  to  be  stated 
otherwise  than  in  the  terms  of  discredited 
history  and  misinterpreted  Scripture,  its  roots 
go  down  into  the  depths  of  the  nature  of  man 
as  a  conscious  and  spiritual  being.  It  is  a 
projection  into  a  particular  mental  atmosphere 
of  an  eternal  truth. 

I  might  multiply  examples,  but  these  two 
will,  I  think,  be  sufficient  to  show  that  a 
pragmatist  tendency  is  working  in  the 
Christian  Churches,  and  practically  serving 
as  an  antidote  to  the  disintegration  caused 


40  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

by  the  spread  of  critical  views  as  regards 
Scripture  and  history.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  the  process  of  reconstruction  goes  on  but 
slowly.  The  Bishop  of  Birmingham  says 
that  he  finds  the  traditional  statements  of 
Christian  doctrine  superior  to  any  of  the 
modern  attempts  to  formulate  it.  In  a 
measure  he  may  be  right.  The  formulation, 
to  be  successful,  must  come  from  thoroughly 
religious  spirits,  and  emotion  must  contribute 
as  well  as  thought.  But  the  strongly  and 
emotionally  religious  spirits  have  as  yet 
scarcely  been  able  to  wean  themselves  from 
traditional  views.  It  is  because  they  are  by 
nature  strongly  pragmatist  that  they  are  apt 
to  regard  the  intellectual  difficulties  attach¬ 
ing  to  Christian  creeds  and  doctrines  as 
but  a  small  matter  in  comparison  with  their 
emotional  and  practical  efficiency.  Probably 
they  will  not  be  driven  from  this  point  of 
view  until  they  are  convinced  that  a  new 
formulation  of  beliefs  is  a  pressing  necessity. 
That  time  is  not  far  off. 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  41 

Meanwhile,  in  a  period  of  transition,  we  may 
best  work  for  the  future  by  refusing  to  allow 
either  element  of  religious  progress  to  be 
thrust  into  the  background.  We  must  insist 
on  a  most  critical  examination  of  the  litera¬ 
ture  and  history  of  Christianity,  using  every 
new  light  of  research  and  discovery.  And  we 
must  at  the  same  time  never  lose  sight  of  the 
truth  that  religion  is,  after  all,  primarily  a 
practical  matter ;  that  it  is  an  interpretation  of 
the  relations  between  man  and  God,  between 
human  spirits  and  the  infinite  spiritual  uni¬ 
verse  in  which  we  live  and  move  and  have 
our  being.  These  permanent  relations  do 
not  depend  upon  any  particular  views  in 
regard  to  history  or  philosophy.  Yet  life  is 
continuous,  and  passes  gradually  from  phase 
to  phase ;  and  we  shall  show  a  wisdom  less 
than  that  of  the  mollusc  if  we  entirely  discard 
the  shell  of  organisation  and  doctrine  before 
we  have  a  new  shell  ready,  larger  and  more 
beautiful,  and  equally  able  to  protect  us 
against  the  hostile  forces  of  the  world. 


42  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

In  fact,  we  must  keep  ever  before  us  the 
distinction,  so  essential,  yet  so  frequently 
overlooked,  between  the  origin  of  a  belief,  a 
custom,  a  religion,  and  its  value.  Into  the 
origin  we  must  inquire  in  the  whitest  of  lights, 
with  the  aid  of  all  the  modern  machinery  of 
comparison  and  archaeology.  But  when  we 
have  traced  the  origin,  that  is  but  one  step. 
Those  are  quite  mistaken,  however  many  they 
be,  who  think  that  when  we  have  traced  the 
history  of  religion  back  to  primitive  beliefs, 
which  no  one  now  accepts,  we  have  disposed 
of  it.  Our  scientific  task  may  be  done,  but 
the  practical  task  remains.  We  have  yet  to 
consider  the  value  of  religion — whether  it  is 
good,  and  why.  And  if  it  be  good,  it  would  be 
absurd  to  reject  it  from  any  foolish  rationalist 
scruple.  We  do  not  refuse  to  eat  a  ripe 
apple  because  when  it  was  unripe  it  was 
suited  only  to  those  with  more  primitive 
digestions.  We  do  not  refuse  to  venture  on 
a  steamship,  because  it  is  developed  in  the 
long  run  out  of  the  canoe  of  the  savage. 


Modernity  and  the  Churches  43 

In  fact,  we  have  to  turn  our  minds  in 
exactly  the  opposite  direction  ;  and  because 
the  best  contemporary  religion  is  of  infinite 
value,  and  transposes  into  a  higher  key  the 
whole  of  life,  therefore  every  past  phase  of  the 
history  of  religion  acquires  a  glow  of  beauty 
and  inspiration.  We  see  the  steps  of  the 
ladder  by  which  men  have  mounted,  and  we 
see  that  had  any  one  of  them  failed  he  would 
have  fallen.  That  they  did  not  fail  can  only 
be  due  to  a  supreme  spiritual  Power,  who  has 
led  men  up  from  rude  beginnings,  and  has 
from  time  to  time  inspired  sacred  messengers 
to  teach  men  what  otherwise  they  could  not 
have  learned  in  regard  to  His  own  being. 


II 

THE  ESSENTIAL  NATURE  OF 
CHRISTIAN  FAITH 

No  question  is  nearer  to  the  centre  of  religion 
than  that  as  to  the  nature  of  faith,  since  faith 
and  religion  are,  in  common  parlance,  almost 
convertible  terms.  This  question  I  propose 
to  take  up,  though  my  treatment  of  it  must 
needs  be  brief  and  summary. 

I  must  mention,  only  to  reject  them,  two 
views  as  to  the  nature  of  faith  most  commonly 
received  among  us.  The  first  is  the  intel- 
lectualist  view  which  identifies  religious  faith 
with  the  acceptance  of  some  particular  creed 
or  formula.  The  history  of  this  view  goes 
back  very  far.  The  roots  of  it  are  to  be  found 
in  Greek  philosophy,  not  in  the  religion  of 

44 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  45 

Israel.  Its  rudiments  can  be  traced  in  the 
Pauline  Epistles ;  but  it  was  not  until 
creeds  were  formulated  and  heresy  regarded 
as  an  intellectual  error  that  it  gained  pos¬ 
session  of  the  Church,  which  for  ages  it 
fully  dominated.  Though  often  rejected  in 
words  by  English  Christians,  it  is  commonly 
received  in  fact.  The  second  is  what  one 
may  call  the  emotional  view  current  in  the 
Broad  Church,  that  faith  consists  in  loyalty 
of  heart  to  a  recognised  spiritual  authority. 
This  is  coming  nearer  to  the  truth,  yet  it  is 
not  satisfactory. 

Both  views  have  some  justification,  inasmuch 
as  faith  must  always  seek  an  utterance  in 
formulas  which  belong  to  the  intellect,  and 
faith  must  always  give  rise  to,  or  be  accom¬ 
panied  by,  emotions  of  love  and  of  loyalty. 
But  we  do  not  in  either  of  these  views  reach 
the  root.  They  are  not  psychologically 
satisfying.  I  think  that  in  order  to  investi¬ 
gate  the  ultimate  nature  of  faith  I  must  pro¬ 
ceed  under  three  heads,  and  consider  (1)  the 


4-6  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

nature  of  faith  in  general,  (2)  that  of  religious 
faith,  (3)  that  of  Christian  faith. 


I.  FAITH  IN  GENERAL 

In  essence,  faith  is  an  active  quality,  an  atti¬ 
tude  of  the  spirit.  I  say  of  the  spirit  rather  than 
of  the  will,  because  will  has  to  do  with  action, 
and  faith,  although  it  usually  has  to  do  with 
action,  may  take  form  mainly  in  an  enthusiasm 
of  the  spirit.  In  relation  to  experience,  or 
the  knowledge  arising  out  of  experience,  faith 
stands  as  follows.  It  is  based  upon  experience, 
but  it  goes  beyond  experience,  and  is  subject 
to  the  control  of  experience.  Since,  however, 
abstract  statements  such  as  these  are  not  easily 
converted  into  the  current  coin  of  thought,  let 
us  take  examples  of  the  exercise  of  faith, 
seeking  them  both  in  our  relation  to  the 
physical  world  which  surrounds  us  and  in  our 
relation  to  the  human  world  of  other  selves. 

In  our  action  on  the  material  world  faith  is 
often  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from  know- 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  47 

ledge.  Indeed,  without  some  degree  of  faith, 
knowledge  as  well  as  action  would  be  impossible. 
We  must  have  faith  in  the  uniformity  of  nature 
and  the  constancy  of  the  properties  of  iron  and 
steam  before  we  can  make  a  machine  or  trust 
ourselves  to  a  train  or  a  steamship.  For  it  has 
been  frequently  pointed  out  by  philosophers 
that  experience  cannot  guarantee  the  future. 
The  fact  that  a  thing  has  happened  a  thousand 
times  does  not  prove  that  it  will  happen  in  the 
same  way  on  the  thousand  and  first  occasion. 
A  child  may  know  by  experience  that  he  can 
float  in  water,  yet  it  requires  a  perceptible 
exercise  of  faith  before  he  can  throw  himself 
into  the  water  in  the  certain  hope  of  rising  to 
the  top. 

But  we  have  all  become  so  fully  accustomed 
to  trust  to  uniform  law  in  nature  that  it 
requires  no  great  exertion  of  faith  to  enable  us 
to  act  on  the  belief  in  natural  law.  If  at  any 
time  we  seemed  to  find  the  working  of  natural 
law  capricious  or  irregular,  we  should  blame 
our  powers  of  observation.  Faith  in  the 


48  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

uniformity  of  nature  has  become  so  much  a 
part  of  our  being  that  to  act  on  the  faith  of 
it  raises  no  enthusiasm  and  calls  for  no  effort. 

It  is  otherwise  in  our  relations  to  human 
beings.  As  we  pass  from  what  is  visible — the 
forces  of  the  material  world — to  what  is  in¬ 
visible — purpose  and  love  and  character — faith 
comes  by  her  own,  and  is  the  indispensable 
guide  of  life.  There  are,  no  doubt,  in  the 
workings  of  societies,  especially  such  workings 
as  come  into  the  field  of  political  economy, 
some  uniformities  which  are  almost  as  much 
to  be  trusted  as  those  of  the  physical  world. 
Gresham’s  law  that  when  purer  and  more 
debased  coins  circulate  together  in  a  country, 
the  worse  will  have  a  tendency  to  drive  the 
better  out  of  circulation,  acts  almost  with  the 
regularity  of  a  law  of  nature.  But  when  it  is 
a  question  of  individuals  and  of  private  con¬ 
duct,  experience  loses  its  cogency,  since  we 
never  know  with  scientific  certainty  what 
course  of  action  any  man  or  woman  will  take. 
And  then  we  have  to  trust  to  faith. 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  49 

In  essence,  faith  is,  as  has  already  been  said, 
a  self-determination,  a  putting  of  the  whole 
being  into  an  attitude  of  trust.  Partly  this  is 
done  from  within :  suddenly,  or  by  degrees,  a 
man  makes  up  his  mind  that,  whether  A  or 
B  be  really  trustworthy  or  not,  he  is  resolved 
to  trust  him.  But  such  resolve  very  seldom 
or  never  arises  wholly  from  within.  Without 
a  flow  of  impulse  coming  from  without,  love 
and  respect,  which  arise  involuntarily  from 
the  action  or  the  characters  of  others  on  us, 
few  men  would  have  the  inner  force  to  adopt 
the  attitude  of  trust.  And  indeed,  in  the 
world  as  we  find  it,  it  is  usually  some  definite 
action  of  a  friend  which  first  kindles  the  fire. 
Involuntarily  we  feel  that  we  should  be  base 
and  ungrateful  if  we  did  not  reciprocate  the 
friendship  which  he  has  shown  us.  Thus  trust 
which,  if  it  arose  entirely  out  of  stress  of  will, 
would  be  hard  and  cold,  is  the  easiest  and 
simplest  thing  possible  when  aroused  by  love. 

Our  faith  in  any  of  our  friends  or  colleagues 

is  based  upon  our  experience  of  his  past 

4 


50  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

behaviour,  or  on  our  reading  of  his  character. 
It  goes,  however,  beyond  the  experience,  for 
if  we  only  trusted  people  in  matters  in  which 
we  had  known  them  to  take  the  right  course, 
we  could  not  live  an  ordinary  human  life. 
The  degree  to  which  we  trust  them  is  largely 
determined  by  emotion,  by  likes  and  dislikes 
which  are  very  imperfectly  rationalised.  Some 
persons  have  the  power  to  trust  others  in  a 
much  higher  degree  than  usual ;  some,  again, 
possess  in  a  remarkable  degree  the  tact  which 
judges  who  is  to  be  trusted,  while  others  seem 
destitute  of  this  faculty.  But  in  every  case, 
so  far  as  a  man  is  reasonable  and  sensible,  he 
is  willing  to  withdraw  his  faith  when  he  finds 
by  experience  that  it  is  ill-placed.  If  he  has 
clear  proof  that  his  confidence  is  abused,  his 
faith  is  destroyed.  His  faith  is  based  on 
experience,  goes  beyond  experience,  and  is 
controlled  by  experience. 

Faith  in  one’s  fellow-men  when  aroused 
gives  further  birth  to  emotion,  to  feelings  of 
love  and  trust.  It  makes  one  think  of  one’s 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  5 1 

fellows  with  a  certain  warmth  of  heart,  and 
infuses  a  glow  of  hope  into  one’s  thoughts 
about  one’s  country,  or  the  future  of  any  social 
movement  in  which  one  is  interested.  It 
kindles  a  flame  on  the  altar  of  life.  Faith  in 
men  as  individuals  cannot  exactly  give  occasion 
to  a  creed.  Yet  when  one  says  that  so  and 
so  is  a  trustworthy  person,  that  his  word  is  to 
be  taken  and  that  he  is  not  actuated  solely  by 
selfish  motives,  one  does  throw  one’s  faith  in 
him  into  the  simplest  of  intellectual  forms. 

And  whereas  in  faith  in  the  uniformity  of 
nature  there  can  scarcely  be  discerned  an 
ethical  element,  since  such  faith  is  the  very 
condition  of  existence  in  civilised  society,  there 
is  much  that  is  ethical  in  all  faith  which  is 
reposed  in  one’s  fellows.  Whether  the  object 
of  faith  is  worthy  or  unworthy  does  not 
immediately  determine  the  ethical  character 
of  faith,  since  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful 
faith  may  be  exercised  in  regard  to  people 
quite  unworthy  of  it,  and  the  poorest  and 
most  halting  faith  may  be  exercised  in  relation 


52  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

to  the  noblest  of  comrades.  How  faith  is 
given  depends  on  tact,  on  perception  of 
character,  and  so  forth.  It  makes  all  the 
difference  in  regard  to  happiness  in  life,  in 
regard  to  success  in  one’s  endeavours  and  the 
like,  but  it  does  not  immediately  affect 
character.  That  is  formed  from  within,  not 
moulded  from  without.  No  man  is  more 
admirable  than  the  man  who  persists  in 
trusting  a  person  of  uncertain  character  until 
he  compels  him  to  become  more  worthy  of 
trust. 

Any  faith  in  man  which  is  worthy  of  the 
name  is  not  too  much  at  the  mercy  of  ex¬ 
perience.  It  is  a  cold  heart  in  which  the 
budding  shoots  of  faith  are  easily  blighted  by 
the  cold  winds  of  distrust  when  appearances 
seem  to  throw  doubt  upon  the  worthiness  of 
the  person  trusted.  Yet  there  is  a  certain 
degree  of  hostile  experience  which  must  needs 
destroy  faith  in  the  case  of  every  one  whose 
ship  of  life  is  steered  by  reason.  Repeated 
and  painful  disappointment  of  trust  reposed  in 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  53 

a  friend  must  lead  any  man  save  a  nature  of 
exceptional  love  and  heroism  into  disillusion 
and  despair.  And  even  the  hero  of  faith  can 
only  venture  to  trust  one  often  found  wanting 
in  matters  in  which  only  his  own  happiness  is 
concerned.  He  has  no  right  to  expose  to 
severe  risks  the  happiness  of  others  or  the 
success  of  important  causes.  The  husband 
who  44  lets  a  wife  whom  he  knows  false  abide 
and  rule  the  house,”  the  statesman  who  allows 
a  man  who  has  violated  important  trusts  still 
to  remain  in  a  position  of  responsibility,  is 
rightly  condemned  by  all  sober-minded  men. 
Beautiful  as  is  the  faith  which  can  survive 
many  disappointments,  a  man  has  no  right  to 
cultivate  such  inner  beauty  at  the  risk  of  the 
community.  He  has  to  steer,  as  every  life 
has  to  steer,  a  middle  course  between  baleful 
alternatives.  Faith,  like  all  human  virtues, 
is  a  mean  between  extremes — between  cold 
distrust  on  one  side  and  fond  credulity  on 
the  other. 


54  Modernity  and  the  Churches 


II.  RELIGIOUS  FAITH 

Religious  faith  is  not  in  kind  essentially 
different  from  the  faith  already  spoken  of, 
except  that  it  has  less  to  do  with  the  seen 
and  more  with  the  unseen.  In  its  lowest  and 
most  rudimentary  form  it  consists,  at  all 
events  for  civilised  people,  in  that  confidence 
in  the  uniformity  of  nature,  that  trust  in  the 
continual  properties  of  material  things  which 
I  have  already  mentioned.  But  it  is  hardly 
worthy  of  the  name  of  religious  faith  unless  it 
goes  further  into  the  realm  of  good  and  evil. 
Here  its  essence  lies  in  the  belief,  sustained  by 
a  continuous  will  to  believe,  that  a  beneficent 
and  wise  Power  lies  behind  the  visible  world  ; 
that  the  working  of  the  universe,  if  it  could  be 
understood,  would  be  found  to  be  essentially 
kind  and  good  to  man ;  that  life  is  worth  living  ; 
and  that  it  is,  in  the  long  run,  wise  to  do  what 
it  is  our  duty  to  do. 

When,  in  this  frame  of  mind,  we  look  on 
nature,  we  are  prepared  to  feel  the  sublimity 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  55 

and  appreciate  the  beauty  which  is  laid  before 
us.  If  there  are  many  things  in  the  visible 
world,  in  the  life  of  plants  and  animals,  which 
are  hard  to  reconcile  with  underlying  benevo¬ 
lence,  we  pass  them  by,  as  we  should  pass 
action  in  a*  friend  which  seemed  on  the  surface 
to  be  unworthy  of  his  character,  but  the 
motives  of  which  we  yet  believed  on  the  whole 
to  be  good.  We  are  prepared  to  thank  the 
Creator  for  our  life  and  the  mercies  with  which 
we  are  surrounded  in  life. 

And  in  the  same  way  the  past  history  of  our 
own  race  and  of  the  world  will  seem,  as  a 
whole,  to  show  the  gradual  working  of  Divine 
ideas,  the  evolution  of  a  better  order  out  of  a 
worse,  the  final  triumph  of  good  over  evil. 
History  will  not  seem  a  chaos,  a  weltering 
maze  of  conflicting  tendencies  in  which  chance 
is  supreme,  but  a  slow  unfolding  of  what,  for 
want  of  a  better  phrase,  we  may  call  the  Divine 
purposes. 

As  for  any  life  in  the  world  it  is  necessary 

that  we  should  have  belief  in  our  fellow-men 

£ 


56  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

passing  the  limit  of  our  mere  experience  of 
their  powers  and  good-will,  so  for  any  effec¬ 
tive  life  directed  to  a  higher  purpose  there 
is  necessary  a  certain  amount  of  optimism,  a 
hardy  hope,  a  trust  in  the  prevalence  of  what 
is  good.  No  man  can  long  persist  in  trying 
to  benefit  society  if  he  is  convinced  that  all  is 
matter  of  chance,  that  evil  is  as  near  to  the 
heart  of  the  universe  as  good,  that  there  is  no 
directing  hand  on  the  wheel  of  fortune.  The 
mood  of  despair  is  not  a  mood  which  brings 
anything  to  pass.  It  is  true  that  through  a 
period  of  despair  a  man  may  continue  to  carry 
out  the  purposes  conceived  in  a  mood  of  hope¬ 
fulness.  But  the  flame  must  needs  gradually 
die  down  and  be  extinguished  unless  it  is 
revived  by  some  fresh  enthusiasm. 

But  if  a  certain  degree  of  faith  in  a  supreme 
beneficent  Power  be  needful  in  a  man’s  view 
of  the  material  world  and  the  world  of  history, 
it  is  still  more  necessary  in  regard  to  the 
course  of  his  own  life.  It  is  indeed  far  more 
necessary ;  for  a  life  uninspired  and  unstimu- 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  57 

lated  by  some  belief  in  duties  laid  upon  it  by 
Divine  power,  some  end  set  before  it  by 
Divine  providence,  will  be  a  life  dull  and 
limited  in  an  extreme  degree.  1  have  read 
many  biographies  in  recent  years,  but  never 
one  from  which  faith  of  this  kind  was  wholly 
absent.  The  faith  may  take  a  great  variety  of 
expressions.  A  man  may  be  a  speculative 
atheist ;  but  even  so  he  will  almost  always  put 
some  semi-impersonation  —  Destiny,  Nature, 
even  Evolution — in  the  place  which  is  vacant. 
There  is  indeed  one  enthusiasm,  desire  to  in¬ 
crease  the  happiness  of  one  s  fellow-men,  which 
may  in  certain  cases  be  divorced  from  religious 
faith  and  in  some  degree  take  its  place.  But 
this,  when  separated  from  all  ideal  elements,  has 
not  been  in  past  history  a  source  of  such  lives 
as  have  been  happy  in  themselves  or  of  much 
value  to  the  race.  The  insufficiency  of  a 
purely  materialist  altruism  as  a  directing  force 
of  conduct  can  be  proved  to  demonstration, 
but  at  present  I  cannot  go  further  into  the 
matter. 


58  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

Religious  faith,  like  all  faith,  is  self-deter¬ 
mination.  On  its  inner  side  it  appears  as  a 
certain  will  to  believe — or  a  determination  at 
all  events  to  act  on  the  belief — that  there  is  in 
the  world  a  supreme  moral  Power,  which  is 
interested  in  us  and  wills  our  salvation.  But 
it  may  be  doubted  if  any  man  takes  up  such 
an  attitude  merely  from  intellectual  convic¬ 
tion.  The  ways  of  thought  and  of  action  lie 
far  apart,  and  few  even  among  philosophers 
can  ever  wholly  subordinate  will  to  reason. 
No ;  trust  in  God  arises  from  such  inward 
experiences  as  stir  and  overpower  the  spirit, 
making  it  feel  ready  to  stake  its  eternal  life 
on  the  power  and  the  goodness  which  it  has 
for  a  few  moments,  it  may  be,  realised  with 
an  overpowering  conviction.  Feelings  either 
of  awe  or  of  love,  or  of  a  mingling  of  the 
two,  force  their  way  into  the  spirit  of  a  man, 
compelling  him  to  recognise  that  he  is  in 
the  presence  of  a  great  moral  and  spiritual 
Power,  and  that  it  is  health  and  life  to  him  to 
obey  and  to  trust  that  Power  to  the  uttermost. 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  59 

When  this  spiritual  experience  comes  at  a 
definite  moment  in  life,  in  consequence  of 
religious  services  or  some  moral  crisis,  it  is 
called  conversion.  But  it  may  grow  up  more 
slowly  and  develop  in  conjunction  with  other 
sides  of  the  character. 

In  either  case,  starting  from  without,  faith 
must  be  maintained  by  inflowing  influence 
from  without.  It  can  no  more  grow  through 
conviction  of  the  intellect  or  mere  emotion 
than  a  plant  can  grow  when  cut  off  from  air 
and  water.  It  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  comes 
and  goes  in  ways  which  we  cannot  trace. 

The  belief  in  Divine  providence,  alike  in 
history  and  in  the  personal  life,  is,  like  faith 
in  mankind,  based  upon  and  controlled  by 
experience,  but  necessarily  passes  on  above 
and  beyond  it.  If  a  man  has  not  felt  within 
him  some  Divine  guidance  urging  him  to  what 
is  better  and  dissuading  him  from  what  is 
worse,  belief  in  a  supreme  moral  Power  will 
scarcely  arise  in  him.  And  in  our  varied  and 
fluctuating  lives  such  belief,  having  arisen,  is 


60  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

very  often  for  a  time  quenched  by  a  series  of 
misfortunes  not  understood,  or  by  a  want  of 
loyal  submission  and  steadfastness,  so  that 
often  for  a  while  the  forces  of  despair  gain  the 
upper  hand  over  those  of  faith.  Here,  again, 
the  human  analogy  is  complete,  for  it  happens 
to  few  men  to  pass  their  lives  without  dis¬ 
illusion  as  to  the  character  of  some  of  those 
whom  they  have  loved  and  trusted.  But  such 
eclipse  of  human  trust  can  be,  unless  it  is  to 
wreck  happiness  and  energy,  but  a  temporary 
phase.  So  also  the  eclipse  of  religious  faith  is 
shown  by  numberless  biographies  to  be  usually 
a  transient  phase,  a  plunge  into  deep  waters, 
whence  one  emerges  at  last  chastened  and 
sobered,  but  not  finally  given  over  to  disbelief. 
It  may  be  that  death  intervenes  before  the 
relief  has  come,  in  which  case  despair  seems  to 
have  finally  mastered  its  victim.  And  if  one 
could  believe  that  death  was  final  and  com¬ 
plete,  that  personality  was  utterly  extinguished 
in  the  grave  and  passed  into  nothingness,  this 
would  be  a  terrible  hindrance  in  the  way  of 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  61 


faith.  Otherwise,  one  may  regard  these  pain¬ 
ful  cases  as  not  in  essence  different  from  the 
rest,  but  only  examples  in  which  the  final 
result  is  hidden  from  our  sight. 

It  is,  however,  of  the  essence  of  religious 
belief  that  it  goes  beyond  the  mere  fact.  In 
the  course  of  history  the  working  of  higher 
purpose  cannot  be  definitely  proved  to  a 
sceptic  in  the  same  way  in  which  the  action 
of  national  tendencies  or  economic  factors  can 
be  proved.  It  must  be  accepted  in  virtue  of 
an  enthusiasm  which  interprets  facts,  and 
refuses  to  be  contented  with  obvious  and 
visible  laws.  There  is  always  an  atheistic 
explanation  of  history  which,  to  the  merely 
indifferent  and  unemotional  intelligence,  may 
seem  as  rational  and  satisfactory  a  view  as 
that  which  involves  theistic  hypotheses.  The 
choice  between  the  two  methods  of  explana¬ 
tion  rests  not  with  the  mere  intelligence,  but 
with  the  principle  of  life,  which  refuses  to  rest 
in  that  which  is  contrary  to  its  nature,  and 
which  blights  its  best  energies.  If  there  were 


62  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

anything  absurd  or  demonstrably  false  in  the 
theistic  explanation,  we  might  have  to  make 
a  painful  choice  between  reason  and  faith. 
But  this  is  not  the  case.  The  two  methods  of 
reading  history  are  equally  possible  and  intelli¬ 
gible  ;  but  one  stops  short  when  the  limit  of 
intelligent  observation  is  reached,  the  other 
seeks  to  bring  the  record  of  history  into  rela¬ 
tions  with  the  inner  life  of  the  spirit.  All 
history,  in  fact,  is  dead,  is  a  mere  unmeaning 
procession  of  phenomena,  until  it  is  interpreted 
by  actual  experience  of  life.  And  the  life  by 
which  the  historian  interprets  it  may  be  either 
a  life  in  which  faith  has  a  share,  or  a  life  from 
which  it  is  excluded,  whether  by  a  theory  or 
by  the  stress  of  bitter  feeling. 

The  individual  life  is  like  that  of  the  com¬ 
munity  on  a  small  scale.  Thus  in  studying 
the  life  of  another,  or  in  contemplating  our 
own,  it  is  not  possible  to  prove  the  working 
of  a  higher  Power  which  proceeds  on  ethical 
lines.  It  cannot  be  set  forth  as  a  fact  among 
other  facts.  But  it  may  be  accepted  on  the 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  63 

basis  of  spiritual  experience,  and  by  means  of 
it  the  life  may  be  as  reasonably  explained  as  it 
could  be  without  it  by  the  mere  colligation  of 
phenomena  and  the  observation  of  sequences. 
Where  the  balance  of  reason  hangs  level,  faith, 
so  to  speak,  throws  into  one  of  the  scales  the 
sword  of  enthusiasm.  And  in  faith  a  man 
determines,  to  whatever  results  it  may  lead, 
to  believe  in  the  Divine  regulation  of  his  past 
life,  and  to  trust  for  guidance  in  the  future  to 
the  same  Power  which  has  given  in  the  past  a 
meaning  and  an  ideal  to  life. 

But  if  it  be  a  sufficient  justification  of  the 
belief  in  the  uniformity  of  nature  that  only  on 
that  view  are  we  able  satisfactorily  to  deal 
with  the  materials  and  forces  of  the  visible 
world,  then  surely  it  is  a  satisfactory  defence 
of  religious  faith  in  the  field  of  individual  life 
and  the  life  of  the  community,  that  it  answers, 
that  it  enables  men  to  pursue  courses  of  action 
which  are  full  of  hope  and  courage,  and  to  be 
of  use  in  their  day  and  generation.  In  the 
higher  mathematics,  as  we  are  told,  we  have  to 


64  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

make  assumptions  which  in  themselves  cannot 
directly  be  justified,  but  which  enable  us  to 
reach  correct  results  by  a  shorter  road.  Much 
in  the  same  way  it  would  seem  that  the 
practical  results  of  the  acceptance  of  theistic 
beliefs  justify  us  in  receiving  them  as  working 
hypotheses,  even  if  we  cannot  place  them 
upon  a  pyramid  of  syllogisms  resting  on  a 
ground  of  demonstrated  fact. 

From  the  pragmatist  point  of  view  it  would 
seem  that  no  better  defence  of  faith  is  needed. 
Human  life  has  developed  these  beliefs  as  a 
tree  throws  out  branches.  And  as  the  life  of 
the  tree  can  only  be  furthered  if  the  sap  flows 
along  the  existing  branches,  so  the  tendencies 
which  formed  belief  in  human  beings  must 
continue  to  flow  along  the  course  of  belief  to 
produce  the  flower  of  happiness  and  the  fruit 
of  efficiency.  Yet  no  doubt  this  is  such  an 
agnostic  defence  of  faith  as  goes  against  the 
grain  of  ordinary  human  nature.  Human 
nature  requires  not  only  that  belief  should  be 
shown  to  be  expedient,  but  that  it  should  be 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  65 

justified  in  the  courts  of  reason.  It  demands 
that  it  should  be  shown  not  merely  to  be 
equally  reasonable  with  unbelief,  but  that  it 
should  be  proved  to  be  more  reasonable. 
Hence  the  rise  of  all  the  theistic  philosophies. 
Psychologically  it  may  be  shown  that  the  real 
root  of  these  philosophies  grows  in  a  soil  of 
active  tendency.  It  is  the  subliminal  con¬ 
viction  of  the  human  race  that  theistic  belief 
is  necessary  to  development  and  happiness 
which  gives  rise  in  each  succeeding  age  to 
theistic  intellectual  growths,  to  philosophic 
systems  which  spring  up  in  the  brains  of  great 
thinkers  who  put  into  form  the  unconscious 
impulses  of  their  times.  But  still  the  systems 
are  in  form  intellectual :  they  are  worked  out 
by  reason  and  syllogism  ;  and  they  must  needs 
be  examined  and  criticised  on  the  grounds  of 
reason.  And  the  negative  or  atheistic  systems 
also  claim  to  be  regarded  in  an  intellectual 
light,  and  refuse  to  be  put  out  of  court  on 
ethical  or  pragmatic  grounds. 

There  are,  indeed,  two  kinds  of  expression  of 

5 


66  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  theistic  and  the  anti-theistic  beliefs  of  a 
people.  One  is  the  way  of  poetry  and  litera¬ 
ture,  the  other  the  way  of  philosophy  and 
doctrine.  The  former,  appealing  to  feeling 
and  imagination,  is  not  suited  to  logical 
examination  or  refutation.  The  latter,  how¬ 
ever,  does  appeal  to  these  tests,  and  claims  to 
stand  or  fall  by  them.  And  since  the  specu¬ 
lative  intellect  has  become,  in  the  course  of 
civilisation,  a  very  great  force  among  us,  it  is 
impossible  to  refuse  the  challenge. 

Psychology,  including  an  examination  of 
the  faculties  for  acquiring  knowledge  and  a 
mapping  out  of  the  limits  of  human  intelli¬ 
gence,  is  a  progressive  science  which  has  made 
great  progress  in  the  last  generation.  But  in 
my  opinion  the  battles  of  the  schools  as  to 
metaphysical  questions,  which  cannot  be 
brought  to  the  test  of  observation  and  experi¬ 
ence,  must  always  be  in  the  long  run  drawn 
battles.  This  is  not  saying  that  those  who 
take  part  in  them  are  wasting  their  labour. 
On  the  contrary,  such  discussion  is  very  stimu- 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  67 


lating  to  the  intellectual  powers.  And  since 
in  every  generation  the  problems  of  meta¬ 
physics  must  be  restated  in  a  form  suited  to 
the  new  intellectual  atmosphere,  the  philos¬ 
opher  may  be  a  great  benefactor  to  the  human 
race.  Experience  of  the  past,  however,  does 
not  encourage  us  to  think  that  these  great 
questions  will  ever  meet  with  final  solution. 
But  they  may  meet  with  partial  and  temporary 
solutions ;  so  that  the  great  philosopher  may 
be  set  beside  the  great  poet  as  one  of  those 
who  do  much  to  further  the  highest  activities 
of  mankind. 


III.  CHRISTIAN  FAITH 


We  come  now  to  the  third  question,  which 
is  our  chief  subject  of  inquiry.  What  is  that 
faith  which  is  distinctively  Christian  ?  We 
shall  expect  it  to  be  based  upon  experience 
and  controlled  by  experience,  but  to  pass  by 
an  enthusiasm  of  the  soul  beyond  the  limits  of 
experience,  so  as  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  a 


68  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

loyalty.  Christian  faith  differs  from  ordinary 
religious  faith  in  virtue  of  its  connection  with 
history.  We  cannot  judge  it  only  in  the 
light  of  experience,  since  Christianity  is  a 
historic  religion,  and  not  independent  of 
history.  But  Christian  history  must  be 
judged,  like  all  history,  in  the  light  of  experi¬ 
ence,  and  interpreted  through  experience. 

Let  me  outline  the  nature  of  Christian 
faith  in  accordance  with  the  principles  laid 
down.  This  must,  of  course,  be  done  in 
very  summary  fashion,  disregarding  the  ob¬ 
jections  which  may  be  raised  at  every  turn. 

The  essence  of  it  is  an  enthusiasm  which 
finds  way  in  a  manner  of  life.  It  grows  from 
within,  though  it  may  be  imposed  from  with¬ 
out.  Though  it  finds  expression  in  creeds,  it 
is  not  limited  by  them  ;  nor  is  any  acquies¬ 
cence  in  doctrine  equivalent  to  faith. 

Christian  faith,  being  essentially  theistic, 
vehemently  asserts  the  Divine  origin  and  the 
Divine  government  of  the  world.  It  is  sure 
that  the  frame  of  things  is  not  fortuitous,  but 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  69 

is  regulated  by  a  Power  more  closely  akin 
to  man  in  intellectual  and  moral  qualities 
than  to  any  other  part  of  creation.  It  feels 
that  every  man  is  sent  into  the  world  for  a 
purpose,  and  that  in  fulfilling  that  purpose 
he  will  find  both  success  and  happiness.  It 
maintains  that  every  nation,  and  every  family 
also,  has  an  ideal  set  before  it,  and  by  its 
approach  or  non  -  approach  to  that  ideal  is 
justified  or  condemned. 

Christian  faith  must  needs  have  historic 
roots.  It  may  sit  lightly  in  regard  to  history, 
and  be  ready  to  welcome  the  results  of 
modern  historic  criticism  of  the  Gospels. 
But  it  is  bound  to  regard  the  life  of  the 
Founder  as  one  really  lived  on  earth,  and 
His  character  and  teaching  as  in  essentials 
to  be  ascertained.  Otherwise,  the  faith  in 
Christ  would  rest  on  the  same  historic  basis 
as  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  and  of  the 
Saints,  which  have  no  justification  in  the 
sacred  books  of  Christianity.  But  it  is  of 
the  very  nature  of  vigorous  faith  that  it  can 


70  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

build  securely  on  a  very  narrow  platform  of 
historic  fact. 

And  it  must  needs  hold  that  after  the  death 
of  the  Founder  a  fresh  spirit  entered  into 
the  world,  a  fresh  power  urging  to  righteous¬ 
ness  and  the  spiritual  life.  The  power  may 
be  seen  in  history,  both  in  the  life  of  Paul, 
and  in  that  of  other  disciples.  And  it  is  the 
power  which  from  the  first  dwelt  in  the 
Church,  urging  it  to  missionary  labours, 
enlightening  the  mind  with  high  views  of 
God  and  man,  adopting  from  the  society 
around  forms  and  organisation  which  were 
suitable,  sustaining  the  courage  of  martyrs, 
making  life  lovely  with  a  thousand  virtues 
and  enthusiasms.  Through  that  spirit  the 
Power  which  reveals  itself  alike  in  nature 
and  in  the  human  spirit  has  made  its 
most  exalted  revelations  to  mankind,  and  set 
up  models  which  will  be  conspicuous  to  all 
time  of  lives  which  were  unselfish,  full  of 
Divine  light,  fixed  like  stars  in  the  firmament 
for  ever. 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  71 

But  it  is  not  essential  to  Christian  faith 
that  it  should  hold  any  special  view  as 
to  the  exact  nature  of  the  Christian  spirit. 
Some  view  most  men  will  be  driven  to  accept, 
but  at  best  they  will  be  probable  theories. 
That  there  is  some  relation  between  the  spirit 
of  Christianity  and  the  person  of  the  Founder 
may  be  regarded  as  certain.  But  we  know 
so  little  about  the  nature  of  personality  that 
we  cannot  be  precise  or  final  in  our  expres¬ 
sion  of  that  relation.  It  is  perfectly  natural 
that  Paul  should  say,  44  He  became  obedient 
to  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross,  where¬ 
fore  also  God  hath  highly  exalted  Him.”  It 
is  perfectly  natural  that  the  writer  of 
Hebrews  should  say,  44  He,  when  He  had 
offered  one  sacrifice  for  sins  for  ever,  sat 
down  on  the  right  hand  of  God.”  It  is 
perfectly  natural  that  the  Fourth  Evangelist 
should  say,  44  In  Him  was  life,  and  the  life 
was  the  light  of  men.”  All  these  great 
Christian  writers  held  different  views  as  to 
the  Person  of  Christ.  And  all  of  them 


72  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

held  views  of  quite  another  kind  from  those 
expressed  in  the  intellect ualist  formulae  of 
the  creeds.  All  of  them  would,  had  they 
lived  to-day,  have  expressed  themselves  in 
very  different  ways. 

When  we  turn  to  the  history  of  the 
Church,  there  is  also  scope  for  variety  of 
view.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  how  anyone 
can  care  to  call  himself  a  Christian  if  he 
sees  in  the  whole  history  of  the  Church 
nothing  but  corruption  and  decay.  But 
though  belief  in  Christ  includes  belief  in  His 
general  guidance  of  the  Church,  it  does  not 
oblige  us  to  believe  in  the  infallibility  of  the 
Church,  or  to  hold  that  the  path  taken  by 
the  Church  is  always  the  best  path.  In  all 
human  institutions  good  and  evil  are  mixed. 
It  is  only  in  the  ideal  Church,  the  unseen 
Kingdom  of  Heaven,  that  the  will  of  God 
is  done  perfectly.  God  reveals  himself  in 
many  ways.  And  just  as,  in  Paul’s  language, 
various  Christian  gifts  and  graces  are  said 
to  be  given  to  various  persons,  so  various 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  73 

sides  of  Christian  excellence  are  best  repre¬ 
sented  in  different  branches  of  the  Church. 

Christian  faith  in  relation  to  experience, 
though  shown  in  individuals,  is  essentially  a 
corporate  thing.  It  belongs  to  the  Church 
as  a  whole :  it  is  the  common  life  of  the  body, 
of  which  all  the  members  partake.  That 
Christ  is  the  Head  of  the  body  is  the  assertion 
of  faith.  The  fact  on  which  it  proceeds  is 
that  in  the  life  of  the  society  from  the  first 
there  has  been  present  the  spirit  set  forth  in 
the  life  and  the  teaching  of  the  historic  Jesus. 
The  Church,  no  doubt,  has  often  been  in  a 
state  of  decline  and  of  decay ;  but  it  has 
been  again  and  again  renewed.  And  the 
renewal  has  not  taken  the  form  of  a  new 
religion  which  has  absorbed  the  old,  but 
the  form  of  a  new  interpretation  of  the 
writings  of  the  early  Church,  and  a  revival 
of  the  spirit  of  the  Founder.  All  this 
would  not  be  enough  to  prove  to  a  sceptic 
the  reality  of  the  Christian  inspiration,  but 
it  is  enough  to  justify  the  Church  in  passing 


74  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

beyond  the  data  of  experience  into  the  life 
of  faith. 

The  Church  cannot  be  independent  of 
facts,  whether  the  facts  of  history  or  the  facts 
of  experience ;  it  cannot  give  up  its  basis 
in  the  world  of  time  and  sense  and  remain 
floating  in  the  air,  though  it  can  give  up,  if 
necessary,  all  that  a  sane  and  sober  criticism 
would  deny  to  be  history,  or  can  prove  to 
be  morbid  in  experience.  And  then  from 
this  platform  it  strains  upwards  into  the 
realm  of  ideals.  It  passes  from  the  shadow 
thrown  upon  the  world  of  sense  by  divine 
realities ;  and  approaches,  by  a  slow  and 
never  ending  process,  those  realities  them¬ 
selves.  These  we  can  never  enclose  in 
words,  or  reduce  to  being  members  of  an 
intellectual  system  which  shall  be  firmly 
fixed  for  all  time.  But  they  can  inspire 
the  will  and  mould  the  life  ;  they  can  give 
happiness  and  energy,  and  make  life  worth 
living.  And  they  can  even  inspire  the 
intellect,  giving  it  views  of  the  past,  of  the 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  75 

future,  and  of  the  higher  aspects  of  the 
present  which  may  make  a  man  a  prophet 
to  his  generation  and  a  light  to  all  time. 

Though  the  life  of  faith  in  the  Church  is 
essentially  a  common  life,  running  through 
all  ages  and  binding  communities  together 
in  a  common  faith  and  hope,  yet  there  is 
also  a  faith  which  belongs  to  the  individual. 
For  the  individual  Christian  has  also  a  life- 
history,  a  soul  to  be  saved  or  corrupted, 
a  work  in  the  world  to  be  done  or  neglected. 
And  between  the  single  soul  and  its  Maker 
there  is  a  path  open,  a  way  kept  by  the 
practice  of  faith  and  prayer.  Every  man 
has  the  faculty  of  being  inspired  by  the 
Divine  life,  just  as  every  mass  of  iron  is 
capable  of  being  wrought  into  a  lightning- 
conductor.  But  in  fact  only  a  small  pro¬ 
portion  of  our  iron  is  used  to  make  a  path 
for  the  lightning.  And,  in  the  same  way, 
it  is  only  few  and  rarely  gifted  souls  which 
are  acutely  conscious  of  being  led  by  the 
Spirit  of  God.  Often  the  Divine  leading 


76  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

is  so  disguised  and  hidden  under  the  guise 
of  circumstance  and  natural  impulse  and 
the  personalities  of  friends  that  it  is  not 
consciously  recognised.  In  all  nations  and 
at  all  times  there  are  prophets — few,  often 
scarcely  recognised,  often  persecuted  and 
despised.  But  it  is  the  conviction  of 
Christians  that  by  the  spirit  of  Christ  the 
way  to  God  is  made  easier.  It  is  the 
adherence  to  Christian  rites,  and  a  conscious 
desire  to  continue  the  life  of  the  Christian 
community,  which  makes  the  Christian  faith 
different  from  that  of  the  Stoic,  the  Jew, 
or  the  Mohammedan.  As  a  man  builds  his 
social  life  on  the  belief  in  certain  friends, 
so  a  Christian  accepts  a  position,  voluntarily 
takes  up  an  attitude  of  faith  in  Christianity 
as  an  existing  system,  becomes  a  member 
of  the  body  of  which  the  Head  is  Christ. 

Of  the  ordinances  of  Christianity  two  are 
the  special  vehicles  of  this  influence,  which 
in  its  more  intense  form  may  be  called 
inspiration,  but  in  its  everyday  aspect  may 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  77 

be  termed  Divine  grace.  These  ordinances 
are,  first  prayer,  and  second  the  Christian 
Communion.  Prayer  may  be  in  most  cases 
inarticulate ;  it  often  consists  only,  so  to 
speak,  in  an  orientation  of  the  spirit,  and 
a  resolute  opening  of  the  windows  through 
which  the  higher  light  comes  into  the  soul ; 
or  prayer  may  be,  as  it  has  usually  been 
in  the  case  of  saintly  souls,  a  constant  and 
conscious  exercise.  The  Lord’s  Supper  has, 
from  very  early  Christian  times,  been  a 
special  channel  of  spiritual  influence  passing 
into  the  soul,  so  that  it  has  usually  been 
regarded  as  the  great  privilege  and  happiness 
of  the  faithful  Christian,  the  deprivation  of 
which  has  been  felt  almost  like  the  loss 
of  one  of  the  senses. 

Christian  experience,  like  all  other  mental 
history,  has  its  ups  and  downs,  its  times  of 
happiness  and  misery,  its  seasons  of  exalta¬ 
tion  and  outflow  and  its  seasons  of  dark¬ 
ness  and  difficulty.  Very  seldom  it  is  a 
path  shining  brighter  and  brighter  ;  usually 


78  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

it  is  a  struggle,  with  mingled  success  and 
failure.  The  Christian  will  commonly 
believe  that  the  causes  of  failure  lie  in 
himself ;  but  this,  of  course,  is  going  beyond 
mere  experience.  The  sum  is,  that  in  the 
minds  of  a  great  number  of  devout 
Christians,  many  of  them  of  most  ordinary 
intelligence,  there  is  a  constant  sense  of 
a  Presence  which  is  inwardly  revealed,  of 
transactions  between  the  soul  and  some¬ 
thing  which  surrounds  and  dominates  it, 
which  may  be  described  in  various  ways 
and  from  many  points  of  view,  but  which 
is  a  thing  of  reality.  In  great  crises  of  the 
life  it  often  impresses  the  spirit  as  much 
more  real  and  objective  than  things  which 
appear  to  the  bodily  eyes,  such  as  the  stars. 
But  in  ordinary  times  of  activity  in  the 
world  it  seems  underlying  rather  than 
conspicuous. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  do  more  than  men¬ 
tion  the  facts  of  spiritual  experience.  It 
is  no  part  of  my  plan  at  present  to  describe 


Essential  Nature  of  Faith  79 

them  :  rather  I  wish  to  examine  their  rela¬ 
tion  to  Christian  faith. 

Man  is  not  a  being  detached  and  self- 
contained,  but  a  link  in  a  chain  stretching 
back  into  the  remotest  past  and  onward 
into  the  future.  Our  experiences  are  but 
the  experiences  of  our  ancestors  renewed 
in  a  fresh  microcosm :  what  we  feel  and 
think  has  been  felt  and  thought  in  modified 
forms  by  those  who  came  before  us,  and 
who  by  their  feeling  and  thinking  formed 
our  capacities  for  thought  and  emotion. 
Life  is  continuous.  And  the  Christian 
experience  is  continuous  from  the  days 
when  the  Apostles  felt  first  that  their  Master 
was  not  hidden  from  them  by  the  closing 
gates  of  the  grave.  It  is  essentially  the 
same  thing,  the  phases  of  which  are  re¬ 
corded  in  the  Epistles  of  Paul  and  echoed 
in  the  Confessions  of  Augustine.  Broadly 
speaking,  it  is  like  the  sense  of  sex  or 
the  sentiment  of  nationality — a  vast  human 
phenomenon,  the  results  of  which  are  con- 


80  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

spicuous  in  every  page  of  human  history. 
The  Christian  Church,  outwardly  regarded, 
has  many  divisions  ;  but  it  has  a  deep-lying 
unity  which  is  based  upon  its  special 
inspiration. 

Christian  faith  has  to  work  upon  the 
facts  of  religious  experience  in  the  Christian 
world  of  to-day  and  as  revealed  in  the 
history  of  the  Church  from  the  beginning. 
By  those  facts  faith  is  regulated.  Any  form 
or  development  of  faith  which  is  in  irre¬ 
concilable  contradiction  either  with  the  ex¬ 
perience  of  to-day  or  the  ascertained  facts 
of  history  is  doomed,  and  must  sooner  or 
later  perish.  But  faith  cannot  be  extracted 
from  the  facts  themselves,  nor  gained  by 
argument  from  the  facts.  It  is  essentially 
an  active  and  living  principle,  which  passes 
beyond  fact  into  the  realm  of  feeling  and 
of  conduct. 


Ill 


THE  DIVINE  WILL 

The  phrase  on  which  I  propose  to  dwell,  “the 
Divine  Will,”  is  one  so  familiar,  alike  in 
Christian  and  in  philosophic  discussions,  that 
I  fear  I  may  have  chosen  an  unattractive 
subject.  But  every  age  is  obliged  constantly 
to  discuss  and  re-discuss  the  main  principles 
of  religious  thought  in  the  various  lights 
thrown  by  the  changing  intellectual  con¬ 
ditions  of  each :  if  such  subjects  were  not 
constantly  brought  up  afresh,  they  would 
pass  into  the  background  of  the  mind  of  the 
Church.  And  we  learn  more  and  more  by 
experience  that  it  does  not  at  all  follow, 
because  a  phrase  is  familiar  to  us,  that  we 

really  understand  it  or  discern  its  full  value. 

81  6 


82  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

It  is  unnecessary  to  do  more  than  indicate 
in  a  few  words  the  vast  importance  to 
Christianity  of  the  conception  of  the  Divine 
Will.  In  fact,  no  phrase  occurs  more  prom¬ 
inently  and  insistently  in  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment  than  this.  It  has  a  place,  as  we  all 
know,  in  the  Lord’s  Prayer ;  and  alike  in  the 
Gospels  and  in  the  Epistles  it  recurs  again 
and  again.  It  is  set  forth  as  the  principle  of 
Christian  obedience  to  do  the  Will  of  God ; 
the  Christian’s  hope  is  that  that  Will  may  be 
done  more  and  more  on  earth.  The  sum  of 
his  intellectual  ambition  is  to  know  what 
the  Will  of  God  is  ;  and  it  is  the  crown  of 
his  character  to  love  the  Will  of  God  as 
revealed  in  the  world. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  conception  is  peculiar 
to  Christianity.  It  is  prominent  in  all  three 
of  the  great  Semitic  religions  —  Judaism, 
Islam,  and  Christianity.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  quite  foreign  to  some  of  the  religions  of 
the  world,  such  as  Buddhism.  Christianity 
not  only  builds  the  conception  into  its  founda- 


The  Divine  Will 


83 

tions,  but  also  takes  it  in  a  different  sense 
from  other  religions,  and  uses  it  far  more 
strenuously. 

In  the  present  brief  treatment  I  shall  en¬ 
deavour  to  do  two  things.  First,  I  shall  try 
to  show  that  the  progress  of  thought,  science, 
and  discovery  has  not  invalidated  the  phrase 
the  Divine  Will ,  nor  deprived  it  of  meaning. 
Secondly,  I  shall  treat,  even  more  briefly,  of 
the  essentially  Christian  way  of  interpreting 
the  ideas  which  the  phrase  implies. 


i 

The  phrase  “  the  Divine  Will  ”  has  a  special 
attraction  for  some  of  the  newer  schools  of 
theology.  The  reason  for  this  may  appear 
presently.  But  first  let  us  meet  the  two 
objections  which  are  commonly  brought 
against  any  religious  insistence  upon  the 
idea  of  the  Will  of  God.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  they  have  been  brought  by  critics 
against  views  expressed  in  works  which  I 


84  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

have  published,  in  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  speak  of  the  Divine  Will  in  the  world. 
It  has  been  objected,  in  the  first  place,  that 
the  phrase  is  essentially  anthropomorphic, 
and  inconsistent  with  the  loftiest  ideas  of 
the  Divine  nature ;  and,  in  the  second  place, 
that  an  insistence  on  the  primacy  of  the 
Divine  Will  overlooks  the  predominance  in 
the  world  of  law,  order,  reason,  to  which  will 
seems  an  opposed  conception. 

Some  lovers  of  philosophy,  and,  indeed, 
some  Christian  lovers  of  philosophy,  will  say 
that  the  expression  “  the  Will  of  God  ” 
belongs  rather  to  an  older  time  than  to  the 
present  day.  It  implies,  they  will  say,  an 
anthropomorphic  view  of  the  Divine  nature. 
They  will  call  it  a  survival  of  the  habit  by 
which  men,  from  the  very  dawn  of  civilisa¬ 
tion,  have  conceived  their  deities  after  a 
human  pattern.  We  have  a  right,  they  will 
maintain,  to  use  such  phrases  as  “the  Divine 
immanence  ”  or  “  the  Divine  ground  of  our 
being,”  but  not  phrases  of  such  simple 


The  Divine  Will 


85 

humanity  as  “the  Divine  Will”  or  “the 
Divine  Purpose.”  The  progress  of  science, 
they  hold,  has  enlarged  our  view  until  we 
see  that  the  main  phrases  of  psychology — 
thought,  feeling,  will — must  be  reserved  to  be 
applied  to  men  only,  and  not  to  the  Divine 
nature. 

To  such  objectors  we  shall  at  once  allow 
that  the  enormous  progress  made  in  the 
investigation  and  interpretation  of  nature 
which  is  the  most  remarkable  feature  of 
the  last  century  has  made  no  longer 
possible  for  men  who  reflect  many  of  the 
simple,  and  in  their  time  reverent,  ways  of 
speaking  of  the  Divine  nature.  If  we  think 
of  God  as  seated  on  a  celestial  throne,  with 
Jesus  Christ  seated  on  His  right  hand,  looking 
down  on  the  inhabitants  of  this  lower  world, 
we  realise  that  this  is  only  poetic  imagery. 
Even  many  of  the  phrases  familiar  to  all  who 
read  their  Bibles — such  phrases  as  “  the  hand 
of  God  ”  and  “  the  wings  of  God  ” — seem  to 
us  metaphorical  phrases.  Nor  do  we  like  to 


86  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

speak  of  a  jealous  God,  nor  of  a  God  who 
repents,  nor  of  a  God  who  inflicts  sudden  and 
visible  punishment  on  those  who  do  not  fear 
His  name. 

But  although  man’s  knowledge  of  the  world 
about  him  has  been  enormously  widened,  and 
his  perception  of  uniform  law  through  the  uni¬ 
verse  has  been  greatly  deepened,  yet  man  him¬ 
self  is  not  in  essentials  greatly  changed.  His 
physical  senses,  apart  from  artificial  aids  to 
them,  have  not  grown  keener  with  advancing 
civilisation,  but  rather  duller ;  his  intelligence 
is  certainly  not  greater  than  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Aristotle  or  of  Cicero,  though  he 
has  learned  economy  in  its  use.  The  avenues 
of  knowledge  are  not  enlarged  :  the  speculative 
questions  of  philosophy  are  much  the  same 
to  us  that  they  were  to  the  sages  of  India, 
the  philosophers  of  Greece,  and  the  School¬ 
men  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  poems  of 
Homer,  the  Hebrew  Psalms,  often  seem  to 
us  as  fresh  as  if  they  had  been  written 
yesterday. 


The  Divine  Will  87 

And  such  phrases  as  “  the  will  of  God,” 
“  the  love  of  God,”  belong  not  to  that  outer 
realm  in  which  we  have  made  such  vast 
discoveries,  but  to  the  inner  realm  which  is 
for  us  very  much  what  it  was  to  our 
ancestors,  though,  of  course,  we  know  more 
about  it,  since  in  recent  years  psychology 
and  sociology  have  made  great  progress. 
They  are  a  rendering  in  words  or  in  thought 
of  an  inner,  a  spiritual  experience  which 
belongs  to  our  deepest  being,  and  has  a 
meaning  for  every  man  who  has  not  by 
disuse  atrophied  his  higher  powers  or  through 
pedantry  determined  not  to  listen  to  their 
testimony. 

These  phrases  do  imply,  no  doubt,  an 
analogy  between  the  relations  of  God  to 
man  and  the  relations  of  men  to  one 
another.  But  this  is  of  the  very  essence 
of  the  religious  consciousness.  Through  the 
ways  of  physical  science  one  attains  the 
conception  of  a  Deity  great  beyond  greatness, 
powerful  beyond  power,  but  not  in  close 


88  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

relation  to  man.  Through  the  ways  of 
speculative  thought  one  may  reach,  with 
the  followers  of  Hegel,  the  notion  of  a 
Deity  in  whom  subject  and  object  are  com¬ 
bined  in  a  transcendent  unity ;  but  such  a 
God  has  no  relation  to  practical  life.  But 
the  moment  one  retires  into  the  citadel  of 
the  human  personality  one  finds  the  presence 
of  a  God  who  must  be  thought  of  in  human 
terms,  who  is  the  hearer  and  answerer  of 
prayer,  who  is  a  very  present  help  in  trouble, 
who  guides  us  in  life,  and  to  whom  we  are 
ready  to  entrust  our  souls  when  we  feel  the 
advent  of  death.  It  is  the  business  of 
philosophic  theology  to  co-ordinate  all  the 
aspects  in  which  God  is  revealed  to  man, 
whether  by  science,  by  philosophy,  or  by 
consciousness.  But  philosophy  has  no  right 
to  set  aside  as  inconvenient  the  direct  facts 
of  human  nature.  These  are  essential  con¬ 
ditions  of  her  problem,  and  any  synthesis 
which  neglects  them  is  thereby  condemned 
as  a  one-sided  synthesis. 


The  Divine  Will  89 

Thus  when  philosophers  raise  speculative 
difficulties  in  regard  to  such  conceptions  as 
the  Divine  Will  and  Divine  inspiration,  we 
are  justified  in  replying  that  we  are  but 
expressing  in  the  best  human  language  that 
we  can  find  some  of  the  primary  facts 
of  human  consciousness.  If  philosophers 
cannot  fit  these  facts  into  their  systems  of 
the  universe,  so  much  the  worse  for  those 
systems.  Surely  the  world  of  culture  has 
suffered  enough  in  the  last  two  thousand 
years  from  the  determination  of  meta¬ 
physicians  to  construct,  at  all  cost  of  fact 
and  reality,  systems  which  seem  to  be  logical 
digests  of  the  universe,  until  in  a  few  years 
another  metaphysician  comes  with  a  new 
system,  probably  equally  ingenious  and  cer¬ 
tainly  equally  one-sided.  Philosophy  has  its 
value,  and  no  doubt  it  will  go  on  in  the 
future  as  in  the  past ;  but  no  worker  in  the 
field  of  physical  science  would  give  up  a 
theory  which  really  helped  to  bind  together 
and  to  explain  facts,  merely  because  it 


90  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

involved  some  speculative  difficulty.  The 
workers  in  the  field  of  religion  will,  if  they 
are  wise,  follow  this  practical  example,  and 
value  rather  the  actual  bearing  of  their  views 
of  the  nature  of  God  and  of  man  than  their 
speculative  completeness  or  their  abstract 
reasonableness. 

The  second  objection  of  which  I  have 
spoken  is  very  much  like  the  first,  and 
seems  to  come  from  the  same  camp.  When 
we  speak  of  the  Will  of  God  do  we  not 
imply  something  arbitrary  and  something  in 
opposition  to  the  law  and  order  which  we 
find  on  all  sides  of  us  in  the  world  of  nature, 
and  even,  in  a  less  degree,  in  society  ?  I 
think  that  this  objection  may  well  serve  as 
a  warning.  If  we  look  back  over  the  history 
of  Christianity,  we  shall  see  that  some  schools 
of  theology  have  spoken  of  the  Divine  Will 
in  such  a  way  as  to  lay  themselves  open  to 
this  objection.  The  views  of  Calvin,  for 
example,  as  to  predestination  and  reprobation, 
perhaps  the  views  of  Augustine  on  the  same 


The  Divine  Will 


91 


subject,  represent  the  Will  of  God  as  arbitrary 
and  even  immoral.  They  compare  it,  not 
with  the  will  of  a  righteous  father,  but  with 
the  caprice  of  the  potter  when  he  makes  a 
vessel  for  honour  or  for  dishonour.  I  think 
that  their  basis  was  one  of  actual  fact ;  but 
they  somewhat  misread  the  fact. 

I  also  think,  though  here  I  may  not  carry 
with  me  all  liberal  Christians,  that  those  who 
base  upon  a  strong  realisation  of  the  Divine 
Will  in  the  world  the  possibility  or  even  the 
actuality  of  physical  miracles,  of  violations  of 
the  laws  of  the  material  world,  in  the  time  of 
early  Christianity,  proceed  in  a  way  which  is 
quite  unjustifiable.  We  must  judge  of  the 
Will  of  God  by  experience,  and  we  have  no 
right,  if  we  find  it  in  some  respects  to  re¬ 
semble  human  will,  to  assume  that  it  resembles 
human  will  in  all  respects,  or  is  arbitrary  and 
unreasonable,  or  that  it  will  interpose  in  the 
course  of  natural  law,  as  a  man  might  inter¬ 
pose  to  ward  off  a  falling  stone  from  a  child 
or  to  lift  him  out  of  a  river.  What  I  mean 


g  2  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

will,  I  hope,  become  clearer  as  we  proceed. 
But  I  wish  from  the  first  to  make  it  clear  that 
by  the  phrase  “  the  Divine  Will  ”  I  understand 
a  will  which  moves  with  order,  which  is  reason¬ 
able.  Indeed,  whether  we  speak  of  the  action 
of  God  in  the  realm  of  spirit  as  showing 
a  reasonable  will,  or  as  showing  a  practical 
reason,  seems  to  me  almost  indifferent.  My 
chief  contention  is  that  we  must  judge  of  this 
action  by  experience,  and  not  determine  its 
nature  beforehand  on  a  'priori  grounds,  imagin¬ 
ing  it  as  bounded  by  human  reason  and  logical 
ways  :  “  It  is  as  high  as  heaven  ;  what  canst 
thou  do  ?  deeper  than  hell ;  what  canst  thou 
know  ?  ” 

It  is  a  commonplace,  alike  with  historians 
and  preachers,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine 
Will  plays  a  great  part  in  early  Christianity. 
It  is  a  feature  in  the  New  Testament  so 
prominent  that  it  can  scarcely  be  overlooked. 
And  yet,  as  I  think,  it  has  in  recent  days  not 
been  sufficiently  regarded.  Christianity  has 
many  sides,  and  it  is  the  way  with  churches  or 


The  Divine  Will 


93 


schools  of  thought  to  dwell  upon  that  side  of 
it  which  has  most  affinity  with  the  special 
tendencies  of  those  schools  or  churches.  In 
recent  days  the  essence  of  Christianity  has 
been  found  by  some  writers  in  the  teaching 
of  the  Divine  Fatherhood,  by  some  in  the  In¬ 
carnation  or  the  Atonement,  by  some  in  the 
enthusiasm  of  humanity.  So  far  as  I  am 
aware,  the  teaching  of  the  Divine  Will  has  not 
been  thus  in  recent  years  taken  as  a  foundation- 
stone.  The  theology  of  Calvin,  in  the  six¬ 
teenth  century,  may  fairly  be  said  to  have 
been  a  theology  of  the  Divine  Will.  And  for 
generations  the  theology  of  Calvin  has  lain 
at  the  root  of  Puritan  teaching.  But  during 
the  last  century  a  rapid  decay  set  in,  and  the 
strong  Calvinist  theology  in  its  fullness  is 
scarcely  now  current  in  any  branch  of  the 
Church — at  all  events,  in  any  English  branch. 
Perhaps  the  time  has  come  when  some  of  the 
main  features  of  Calvinist  theology  may  be  set 
forth  in  a  new  way,  and  may  be  found  still  to 
wake  an  echo  among  some  modern  Christians. 


94  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

In  another  work  I  have  tried  to  explain  in 
what  ways  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Will  is 
Christianised  in  the  teaching  of  the  Gospels.1 
There  it  is  combined  with  the  teaching  that 
man  is  the  roof  and  crown  of  all  material 
things,  and  God  the  end  and  ruler  of  man. 
And  it  is  transformed  by  the  influence  of 
the  life  and  the  teaching  of  Jesus  so  as  to  be 
no  longer  a  hard  and  cold  tenet  of  a  Stoic 
philosophy,  but  a  living  germ  of  emotion  and 
action.  It  is  in  this  fashion  that  the  doctrine 
has  entered,  not  only  into  the  beginnings  of 
Christianity,  but  into  the  work  of  those  who, 
in  the  history  of  the  Church,  have  been  most 
like  their  Master.  A  passion  for  the  Divine 
Will  reflecting  the  Founder’s  own  high  passion 
has  again  and  again  arisen  in  the  Church  and 
lifted  it  to  high  enterprises  and  great  reforms. 
As  the  purpose  of  this  paper  is  not  historical, 
but  rather  has  reference  to  the  experiences 
and  the  needs  of  the  present  day,  it  will  be 
better  to  proceed  to  consider  in  what  way  the 

1  The  Growth  of  Christianity,  pp.  16-22. 


The  Divine  Will 


95 

Divine  Will  is  presented  to  us  in  the  modern 
world  of  nature  and  of  society. 


ii 

So  far  as  we  can  fathom  the  mystery  of 
the  universe,  the  secret  of  it  lies  in  a  constant 
stream  of  force  displayed  in  many  fields  and 
in  various  ways.  The  only  notion  of  force 
which  can  possibly  be  framed  by  man  starts 
from  consciousness  and  is  built  upon  will, 
since  we  ourselves  are  the  only  beings  whose 
actual  energy  enters  into  our  experience. 

But  it  does  not  take  a  very  profound 
knowledge  of  the  physical  world,  nor  a  wide 
experience  of  life,  to  show  us  that,  if  the 
cosmic  force  must  be  compared  to  will,  and 
read  in  terms  of  will,  yet  in  many  of  its 
manifestations  it  greatly  differs  from  the  will 
of  which  we  are  conscious. 

In  the  world  of  physical  phenomena,  the 
visible  universe  which  conditions  and  encom¬ 
passes  our  material  life,  we  find  everywhere 


96  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

force  acting  according  to  fixed  and  unvarying 
law.  This  fixity  is  perhaps  most  conspicuous 
in  such  provinces  as  that  of  astronomy,  where 
the  time  of  an  eclipse  can  be  foretold  to  a 
moment,  and  that  of  chemistry,  where  experi¬ 
ments,  repeated  a  thousand  times,  in  every 
case  yield  exactly  the  same  result.  Among 
things  which  have  life,  in  the  domain  of 
biology,  force  presents  itself  in  another  aspect, 
moving  rather  by  tendency  than  by  invariable 
process — tendency  in  which  we  may  trace 
what,  from  the  human  point  of  view,  one  may 
call  higher  purpose.  But  what  I  have  to 
insist  upon  is  that  when  we  turn  from  that 
which  is  without  to  that  which  is  within,  to 
the  realm  of  consciousness  and  of  conduct, 
the  cosmic  force  or  will  at  once  presents  itself 
in  quite  another  light — not  as  actual,  but  as 
ideal ;  not  as  incorporated  in  a  world  of  law, 
but  as  a  regulative  principle  of  conduct, 
showing  us  not  what  must  be  but  what  may 
be  or  ought  to  be ;  not  as  that  which  always 
is,  but  as  that  which  is  ever  becoming. 


The  Divine  Will 


97 


As  man  is  by  his  body  connected  with  the 
outward  universe,  so  by  his  consciousness  and 
his  moral  nature  he  finds  himself  in  constant 
contact  with  a  divine  life.  Around  him  and 
above  him  stretches  a  spiritual  world  of 
which  his  soul  is  a  member.  But  this  con¬ 
trast  between  what  is  without  and  what  is 
within,  between  the  realm  of  law  and  order 
and  the  realm  of  liberty  and  ideals,  is  one 
which  the  human  race  has  only  by  degrees 
realised.  One  may  even  say  that  Kant  was 
the  first  thinker  to  set  it  forth  clearly  in  the 
language  of  articulate  thought. 

If  we  go  back  a  certain  distance  in  the 
history  of  civilised  peoples,  or  if  we  examine 
the  mental  state  of  those  still  in  a  barbarous 
condition,  we  find  the  line  between  the  outer 
and  the  inner  world  not  drawn  with  clear¬ 
ness.  The  science  of  anthropology  shows  us 
how  all  nations  have  passed  through  a  stage 
called  animism,  in  which  the  powers  of  the 
world  about  us — wind  and  rain,  sun  and 

moon,  and  the  rest — are  supposed  to  be 

7 


9  8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

moved  by  volitions  like  those  of  man  himself, 
so  that  they  can  be  persuaded  by  gifts,  or 
compelled  by  sorcery,  to  favour  this  or  that 
votary.  By  degrees  the  spirit  of  sun  or  moon, 
of  wind  or  rain,  is  eliminated  from  the  mere 
natural  phenomenon,  and  then  we  have  a 
pantheon  of  naturalist  deities  sitting  above  and 
over  the  natural  forces  which  they  control. 

And  when  polytheism  passes,  as  it  tended 
to  pass  in  historic  Greece,  into  monotheism, 
something  still  survives  of  the  notion  that 
the  energy  which  sways  the  material  world 
is  a  capricious  human  will,  so  that  a  Divine 
Purpose  may  easily  alter  the  order  of  events 
in  nature,  making  iron  swim  or  the  sun 
stand  still  for  some  moral  or  religious  end. 
By  very  slow  degrees  the  world  realises  that 
it  is  not  thus  that  God  works,  and  that  the 
physical  world  is  a  world  of  invariable  se¬ 
quence.  Few  of  us,  if  we  carefully  examined 
our  own  thoughts,  would  find  the  belief  in 
miraculous  interventions  of  God  in  the  world 
about  us  quite  extinct.  And  it  is  certain 


The  Divine  Will 


99 

that  a  belief  in  miracles  as  a  test  and  con¬ 
firmation  of  religious  teaching  plays  a  great 
part  in  the  history  of  Christianity. 

Nevertheless  it  is  noteworthy  how  few 
miracles  proper,  as  contrasted  with  works  of 
faith-healing,  which  are,  of  course,  not  miracu¬ 
lous,  the  early  Christian  disciples  assigned  to 
their  Master.  The  reason  of  this  probably 
is  that  at  the  very  roots  of  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  lies  a  conviction  that  the  Kingdom  of 
God  is  within,  not  without — that  it  lies  in 
the  relation  of  spirit  to  spirit.  God  does 
not  exercise  His  will  in  changing  the  order 
of  events  in  the  visible  world,  but  in  guiding 
human  action,  and  in  giving  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  them  that  ask. 

There  is  current  a  loose  and  inaccurate  way 
of  regarding  the  relations  of  the  physical 
world  to  the  human  spirit,  and  to  the  Divine 
Spirit  which  works  in  and  through  it.  Many 
people  cannot  think  of  the  spiritual  control 
of  the  material  save  as  a  supernatural  or 
miraculous  interference  with  natural  law. 


ioo  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

They  puzzle  themselves  with  theories  of 
causation  and  necessity  until  they  regard  the 
whole  world,  human  and  other,  as  a  sort  of 
machine  which,  when  once  set  going,  will  pro¬ 
ceed  by  itself.  And  they  do  not  see  how 
Divine  Purpose  can  take  effect  in  this  fixed 
scheme,  save  by  definite  interposition.  Nor 
do  they  understand  how  God  can  intervene 
in  human  lives  save  by  a  voice  from  heaven. 
A  deeper  view  of  the  world— a  view  tinged 
by  a  certain  amount  of  mysticism — is  really  a 
truer  view.  The  Divine  Power  works  not  so 
much  from  outside  as  from  within.  In  fact, 
the  whole  energy  of  the  universe  works  from 
within  outwards.  It  forms  alike  the  physical 
universe  and  human  character.  Through  each 
of  these  it  works  on  the  other,  and  the  manner 
of  its  working  is  a  matter  for  infinite  investi¬ 
gation. 

Tennyson  has  summed  up  the  whole  matter 
as  well  as  it  can  be  summed  up  in  his  two  lines  : 

44  Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how ; 

Our  wills  are  ours,  to  make  them  Thine.” 


The  Divine  Will 


IOI 


No  doubt  the  whole  question  of  free  will  in 
man,  and  of  the  Divine  Power  which  works 
through  it,  is  hemmed  in  by  enormous  specu¬ 
lative  difficulties.  Into  these  I  cannot  enter. 
I  would  only  observe  that  it  is  not  possible  for 
a  moment  to  deny  that  inherited  character  and 
tendency  form  a  constant  limit  to  the  action 
of  free  will.  It  is  not  possible  by  mere  voli¬ 
tion  wholly  to  change  one’s  nature.  Generally 
speaking,  the  line  of  action  moves  on  from 
the  past  to  the  future  in  lines  which  may  be 
observed,  if  they  cannot  be  calculated.  But 
unless  man  has  a  power  of  self-modification, 
and  unless  there  is  a  spiritual  power  which  can 
aid  him  in  the  changing  and  ennobling  of  his 
life,  then  the  essential  Christian  teaching  has 
no  root  in  the  nature  of  things,  and  is  refuted 
by  experience. 


in 

When  we  turn  from  that  which  is  without 
to  that  which  is  within,  we  enter  into  another 
realm.  Here,  in  the  place  of  invariable 


102  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

sequence,  we  find  idea,  purpose,  free  will. 
Every  soul  is  a  member  of  a  divine  kingdom, 
inwardly  revealed — a  realm  of  the  possible 
rather  than  of  the  actual,  of  that  which  might 
or  ought  to  be  rather  than  of  that  which  is. 
But  in  this  kingdom  we  can  only  take  up  our 
citizenship  through  self-surrender. 

There  is  a  great  Power  in  the  human  world 
flowing  in  the  direction  of  righteousness,  and 
we  have  only  to  cast  ourselves  into  the  stream 
to  be  borne  in  its  course.  But  our  indolence, 
our  evil  passions,  our  selfishness,  are  barriers 
which  rise  between  us  and  this  great  spiritual 
stream.  We  have  power  to  shut  ourselves 
away  from  its  influences  ;  nay,  it  is  easy  to 
shut  ourselves  away,  and  the  door  when  once 
closed  is  not  easy  to  open.  Even  more,  we 
have  the  power  to  admit  into  the  heart,  not 
the  impulse  which  leads  to  the  better,  but 
that  which  leads  to  the  worse — to  follow 
the  whispers  of  temptation  and  take  the  road 
that  leads  away  from  life  to  destruction. 
Every  soul  lies  between  the  spiritual  powers 


The  Divine  Will  103 

of  good  and  of  evil,  and  can  incline  to  either 
side.  But  the  power  of  good  is  by  nature 
stronger,  since  it  is  more  in  accord  with  ulti¬ 
mate  realities  than  the  power  of  evil ;  and  he 
who  sets  himself,  even  with  faint  and  faltering 
will,  on  the  side  of  the  good  will  find  a 
reinforcement  of  strength  not  his  own,  which 
may  bear  him  on  to  better  things  in  spite  of 
all  weakness,  and  in  spite  of  occasional  relapse. 

We  are  accustomed  to  associate  the  phrases 
44  Will  of  God  55  and  44  Kingdom  of  Heaven  ” 
with  conduct  exclusively,  and  even  only  with 
such  sides  of  conduct  as  are  by  tradition 
connected  with  religious  teaching.  But  this 
restriction  does  not  lie  in  the  nature  of  things. 
Every  thought,  every  feeling,  and  every  action 
which  tends  to  the  raising  and  betterment  of 
mankind  is  work  for  the  Kingdom.  The  artist 
who  toils  in  poverty  and  obscurity  towards  the 
development  of  his  art,  the  musician  who 
tries  to  wed  music  to  the  better,  not  the  worse, 
side  of  human  nature,  the  man  of  science  who 
devotes  his  life  to  the  study  of  a  group  of 


104  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

natural  phenomena,  the  historian  who  buries 
himself  among  archives  in  the  hope  of  elucidat¬ 
ing  some  phase  of  past  history,  are  just  as 
much  the  soldiers  of  the  Divine  Will  as  are  the 
priest  and  the  philanthropist.  Every  thought 
and  every  deed  which  in  past  days  has  furthered 
and  sweetened  the  life  of  men  is  done  in 
accordance  with  the  W  ill  of  God.  The  Divine 
ideas  are  partially  and  imperfectly,  but  con¬ 
stantly,  being  worked  by  human  agency  into 
the  woof  of  history.  And  in  every  age  they 
are  opposed  by  the  vice  and  indolence  of 
mankind,  or  thrust  aside  by  spurious  imitations 
and  unworthy  rivals  which  succeed  better 
because  they  appeal  more  directly  to  the 
obvious  self-interest  of  men. 

It  is  not  impossible  that  some  people  may 
regard  this  insistence  upon  the  phrase  “  the 
Will  of  God  ”  as  savouring  of  obscurantism. 
It  might  bear  this  complexion  if  one  were  to 
regard  the  Will  of  God  as  obscure,  unin¬ 
telligible,  capricious,  like  the  wills  of  some 
men.  But  no  person  can  carefully  study  the 


The  Divine  Will  105 

phenomena  of  human  life  without  feeling  that 
it  also  is  after  all  a  scene  of  profound  order. 
However  the  will  of  God  may  seem  to  us  at 
moments  strange  and  harsh,  yet  our  reason 
itself  suggests  that  this  is  but  a  superficial 
view.  And  our  feeling  of  gratitude  for  life, 
and  loyalty  to  the  source  of  life,  will  make  us 
cleave  to  the  belief  that  the  Divine  Will,  could 
we  but  better  know  it,  would  be  found  to  be 
kind,  consistent,  and  generous. 

The  schools  of  philosophy  have  always  been 
more  disposed  to  speak  of  the  Divine  Reason  or 
thought  than  of  the  Divine  Will.  If  we  think 
of  God  from  the  practical  side,  we  shall  think 
of  Him  mainly  as  Will,  but  Will  which  is 
reasonable.  If  we  bring  our  speculative 
thought  to  bear  upon  God,  we  shall  think  of 
Him  mainly  as  Intelligence ;  but  it  must  be 
as  an  Intelligence  to  whom  to  think  and  to 
act  is  the  same  thing.  On  both  sides  we 
men,  being  both  acting  and  thinking  creatures, 
may  come  into  the  Divine  presence.  Alike  in 
will  and  thought  we  may  be  loyal.  But  in 


106  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  present  case  it  is  religion,  and  not  philo¬ 
sophy,  which  is  our  subject ;  and  therefore  we 
speak  primarily  of  the  Divine  Will.  But  in 
doing  so  we  must  never  forget  the  immortal 
words  of  Isaiah  :  “  As  the  heavens  are  higher 
than  the  earth,  so  are  My  ways  higher  than 
your  ways,  and  My  thoughts  than  your 
thoughts.” 


IV 

This  Divine  Purpose,  this  law  of  the  ideal 
life,  is  revealed  to  men  in  various  ways.  First 
of  all,  and  beyond  all,  to  the  individual.  “The 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within  you.”  By 
prayer,  by  waiting,  by  obedience,  men  and 
women  become  conscious  of  a  higher  Presence 
and  a  calling.  I  have  said  “  become  con¬ 
scious  ”  ;  but  though  the  higher  revelation  of 
the  Divine  Will  is  conscious,  yet  with  most 
people,  and  with  all  people  at  most  times,  it 
lies  beneath  consciousness  and  is  not  often 
strongly  realised  as  an  objective  call.  But  at 
crises  and  turning-points  of  the  life  it  often 


The  Divine  Will 


107 


bears  in  upon  us  with  startling  clearness. 
Here  Socrates  and  St  Paul  are  at  one.  At 
such  times,  in  less  critical  and  introspective 
ages,  men  thought  they  heard  a  voice 
from  heaven  uttering  articulate  words.  But 
whether  heard  or  only  felt  in  the  heart, 
whether  accepted  or  rejected,  the  impulse  is 
recognised  as  one  of  the  primary  experiences 
of  the  religious  life. 

I  might  here  endeavour  to  shovT  how  the 
primary  impulse  from  above  acts  in  the  soul 
of  man — how  it  stirs  the  emotions,  urges  the 
will,  and  even  opens  the  eyes  of  the  under¬ 
standing  to  see  things  as  they  really  are.  But 
I  need  not  here  dwell  on  these  primary  facts 
of  religious  psychology — partly  because  I  have 
wrritten  of  them  elsewhere,  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,1  partly  because  they  are  set  forth  with 
deeper  knowledge  and  greater  authority  than 
I  can  claim  by  others.  In  the  opinion  of 
some  of  the  ablest  and  best  trained  of  modern 
psychologists,  such  facts  as  that  man  is 


1  Exploratio  Evangelica,  chaps,  ii.-vi. 


108  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

susceptible  of  spiritual  inspiration,  and  that 
such  inspiration  has  power  in  a  moment  to 
change  the  course  of  his  life  and  endow  him 
with  strength  and  wisdom  beyond  his  previous 
hopes — such  facts  as  these  stand  on  as  well 
assured  a  basis,  are  as  fully  borne  out  by 
testimony  and  experience,  as  any  facts  what¬ 
ever  of  the  conscious  life. 

Will  in  man  is  naturally  prior  to  thought : 
impulse  accumulates  before  it  finds  a  vent  in 
one  channel  or  another.  Thus  a  readiness  to 
do  the  Will  of  God  precedes  the  question  to 
what  that  Will  points.  Intelligence  and 
reason,  of  course,  also  have  their  part  in  the 
matter,  and  without  them  there  can  be  no 
consistency  or  wisdom  in  life.  But  reflection 
comes  at  a  later  stage  than  purpose.  And 
reason  will  never  by  itself  show  us  what  the 
Divine  Will  is.  It  will  show  us  to  what  end 
certain  kinds  of  action  work ;  but  it  will  not 
help  us  to  choose  between  ends,  or  furnish  us 
with  motives  for  action.  It  is  a  light  to  guide 
our  feet,  but  it  does  not  give  us  an  impulse  to 


The  Divine  Will  109 

move.  Thus  the  question  how  we  can  know 
the  Divine  Will  can  never  be  separated  from 
the  practical  question  how  we  shall  do  the 
Divine  Will.  Unless  there  be  in  our  hearts 
a  desire  to  do  the  Will  of  God,  we  shall 
not  by  mere  thinking  find  out  to  what  it 
points. 

There  is  profound  truth  in  the  words  of 
the  collect,  “  O  God,  without  Thee  we  are 
not  able  to  please  Thee.”  It  is  only  by 
Divine  aid  that  we  are  able  to  carry  out  the 
Divine  Will.  God  must  work  in  us,  and  we 
in  God,  if  we  would  accomplish  that  for  which 
we  were  sent  into  the  world. 

But,  further,  we  cannot  do  the  Will  of  God, 
or  know  the  Will  of  God,  until  we  have 
learned,  at  least  in  some  measure,  to  love  the 
Will  of  God.  Our  emotional  nature  must  also 
bring  its  contribution.  And  the  love  of  poor 
human  nature  has  to  be  bought.  With  love 
happiness  is  inextricably  bound  up  :  as  Milton 
says,  “  Without  love  no  happiness.”  We  can 
indeed  only  love  those  from  whom  we  have 


no  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

received,  or  expect  to  receive,  happiness  or  a 
furtherance  of  life.  And  it  is  the  natural  and 
inevitable  reaching  towards  happiness,  the 
craving  which  is  like  the  craving  of  the  plant 
for  water  and  for  sun,  which  draws  us  in  the 
direction  of  love.  Hence  another  great  prin¬ 
ciple  of  religious  psychology,  another  fact  of 
human  nature,  recognised  and  consecrated  by 
Christianity,  is  that  the  way  of  obedience  to 
Divine  leading  is  also  the  path  of  happiness. 
This  teaching  is,  in  its  lower  form,  no  mystic 
doctrine,  but  the  verdict  of  experience.  It  is 
the  things  done  in  accordance  with  nature 
which  make  up  the  durable  and  permanent 
happiness  of  our  lives — healthy  physical  exer¬ 
cise  and  nourishment,  the  domestic  affections, 
the  putting  forth  of  mental  and  moral  activities. 
But  to  the  Christian  the  teaching  has  a  higher 
aspect.  It  is  the  lower  pleasures  which  spring 
from  mere  personal  activities  and  the  natural 
assertion  of  oneself  in  the  world.  The  higher 
pleasures  spring  from  the  merging  of  self  in  a 
noble  enthusiasm,  or  in  a  mystic  communion 


The  Divine  Will  hi 

with  the  working  of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  the 
world. 

So  far  I  have  spoken  of  the  revelation  of 
the  Divine  Will  to  the  individual.  To  such 
revelation  some  persons  are  infinitely  more 
susceptible  than  others.  And  this  suscepti¬ 
bility  is  rare  even  in  nations  in  which,  as  in 
England  and  Germany,  the  personality  is 
often  strongly  developed.  Religion  would 
indeed  have  a  precarious  hold  among  men  if 
its  acceptance  wrere  dependent  upon  the 
personal  acceptance  of  a  definite  relation  to 
the  Divine  Will.  We  are  all  members  one  of 
another,  parts  of  smaller  or  larger  societies — 
a  family,  a  group,  a  nation.  Every  family, 
group,  or  nation  has,  or  should  have,  a  definite 
spiritual  life  and  tendency,  so  that  by  mere 
adherence  to  it  men  may  fall  more  easily  into 
the  path  of  Divine  energy  in  relation  to  which 
they  are  born. 

But  it  is  especially  the  Church,  or  any 
branch  of  the  Church  into  contact  with  which 
we  come,  which  treasures  up  and  brings 


1 1 2  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

together  the  inspirations  of  individuals.  The 
main  function  of  the  Church  is  to  act  as  a 
great  spiritual  reservoir.  Into  a  lake  the 
mountain  streams  discharge  themselves  with 
irregular  volume,  according  to  the  weather  or 
the  season ;  and  from  the  lake  flows  at  all 
times  a  steadfast  river,  sometimes  fuller  and 
sometimes  less  copious,  but  never  dry.  So 
the  Church  collects  the  results  of  the  divine 
impulses  of  her  most  favoured  members,  and 
treasures  them  in  order  to  make  her  stream 
more  grateful  to  the  thirsty  lands.  She  has, 
to  continue  the  comparison,  perennial  springs 
in  the  narratives  of  the  life  of  the  Founder 
and  the  epistles  of  His  Apostles  ;  but  besides 
these  there  is  an  influx,  sometimes  abundant 
and  sometimes  scanty,  from  all  devout  souls. 
We  may  even  go  a  step  further,  and  say  that 
in  days  when  the  outpourings  of  the  Spirit  are 
abundant  the  regular  springs  become  com¬ 
paratively  less  important ;  in  times  of  drought 
they  are  beyond  value.  I  speak,  I  need 
scarcely  say,  of  the  ideal  Church,  which  has 


The  Divine  Will 


ii3 

never  been  fully  realised  on  earth.  All  the 
existing  churches,  while  they  must  necessarily 
in  some  degree  fulfil  the  function  of  reservoirs, 
yet  sadly  contaminate  the  waters  stored  in 
them,  so  that  one  often  longs  for  a  draught 
from  the  pure  mountain  brook.  I  will  return 
to  this  comparison  later. 

Philosophy,  from  the  days  of  Socrates  down¬ 
wards,  has  been  very  much  in  the  habit  of 
first  trying  to  argue  out  what  is  the  path  of 
duty,  and  then  assuming  that  when  a  man 
knovrs  what  is  right  he  will  do  it  without 
further  hesitation.  It  is  true  that  this  assump¬ 
tion  is  falsified  in  all  experience  of  life.  But 
the  philosophers  think  that,  if  not  the  case, 
it  ought  to  be  the  case,  and  must  for  their 
purposes  be  assumed  to  be  the  case.  Religion, 
and  above  all  the  Christian  religion  in  its 
original  form,  inverts  the  order  of  philosophy, 
and  makes  a  knowledge  of  what  is  right  arise 
out  of  the  habit  of  doing  what  is  right.  It 
establishes  obedience  as  the  organ  of  spiritual 
knowdedge.  If  a  man  determines  to  do  the 


H4  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

Will  of  God,  the  Synoptic  writings  do  not 
speak  of  difficulties  which  he  will  meet  in 
discovering  what  that  Will  is. 

To  many  of  us  moderns  the  path  of  the 
Divine  Will  does  not  seem  to  be  thus  easily 
found.  We  are  reasoning  and  self-conscious 
beings,  and  have  to  consider  the  bearings  of 
our  actions  in  every  direction.  No  doubt 
some  modus  vivendi  has  to  be  discovered 
between  the  philosophic  argument,  which 
clears  the  understanding  but  leaves  the  heart 
cold,  and  the  religious  impulse,  which  finds 
eager  vent  in  action  but  does  not  always  go 
with  wisdom.  But  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  the  course  alike  of  modern  scientific  in¬ 
vestigation  and  of  modern  speculative  thought 
is  to  value  more  and  more  highly  the  religion 
which  strikes  direct  at  the  heart  and  will. 
Thought  will  always  claim  its  rights  ;  and  in 
a  scientific  age  like  ours  no  educated  person 
can  escape  from  the  conviction  that  we  must 
value  more  and  more  the  method  which 
systematises  knowledge  and  the  wisdom 


The  Divine  Will  1 1 5 

which  constantly  looks  to  the  results  of 
courses  of  action.  Yet  observation,  reasoning, 
and  system  will  never  inspire  a  man  with  the 
desire  to  do  what  is  right ;  they  will  only  show 
him  how  to  reach  the  ends  he  desires,  whether 
they  be  good  or  evil.  They  are  the  rudder 
of  the  ship,  but  not  the  sails. 


IV 

THE  FUNCTION  OF  PRAYER 

The  question  of  prayer  is  one  of  religious 

psychology,  a  branch  of  mental  science  which 

until  lately  can  scarcely  have  been  said  to 

exist.  So  long  as  religion  and  Christianity 

were  identified,  as  they  used  to  be  by  religious 

writers,  it  was  impossible  to  see  the  wood  for 

the  trees,  or  to  distinguish  between  what  is  the 

common  ground  of  religion  and  the  Christian 

edifice  built  upon  it.  But  when  the  method 

of  comparison  between  the  facts  of  Christianity 

and  those  of  such  religions  as  Buddhism  and 

Islam  was  introduced,  it  began  to  be  perceived 

that  all  religions  have  certain  features  in 

common,  that  Christianity  is  the  loftiest  branch 

of  a  great  tree  which  has  many  branches,  and 

116 


The  Function  of  Prayer  117 

that  we  may,  without  ceasing  to  be  Christians 
understand  and  appreciate  other  forms  of  faith. 

In  treating  of  any  part  of  religious  psycho- 
logy,  what  is  above  all  things  necessary  is  to 
discern  between  fact  and  theory.  This  is  not 
easy.  All  the  facts  of  religion  are,  especially 
to  Christians,  so  overgrown  with  doctrine  and 
theory,  so  buried  under  profound  feeling  and 
hope  and  desire,  that  they  are  not  readily  to 
be  discerned.  I  have  no  wish  to  disturb  the 
theory,  or  to  touch  with  venturesome  hand 
the  hopes  and  feelings  of  Christians.  But  a 
survey  of  the  foundations  is  necessary,  for 
unless  these  be  sound  all  the  superstructure 
is  liable  at  any  time  to  fall  in  a  general  ruin. 
I  shall  therefore  try  to  adhere  as  closely  as  I 
can  to  fact,  to  reality,  to  the  essential  ground 
of  experience,  and  to  set  aside  theory  and  the 
dicta  of  authority,  not  at  all  as  valueless,  but 
as  not  pertaining  to  the  present  quest. 

The  particular  set  of  facts  which  I  propose 
to  consider  are  those  of  prayer.  Prayer  is 
the  most  universal  of  the  phenomena  of 


1 1 8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

religion,  found  in  all  countries  and  at  all 
times.  Although  I  would  scarcely  venture  to 
say  that  without  prayer  religion  cannot  exist, 
I  would  certainly  say  that  religion  without 
prayer  is  in  a  decaying  and  evanescent 
condition. 


i 

There  is  obviously  one  presupposition  of 
prayer,  one  condition  under  which  alone  it 
becomes  possible :  the  condition  that  he  who 
prays  believes  and  feels  himself  to  be  in 
direct  relation  with  a  great  spiritual  Power 
to  whom  he  has  access.  The  votary  must 
feel  that  the  prayer  does  not  pass  away  into 
an  infinite  void,  but  expresses  a  real  contact 
of  spirit  with  spirit.  This  is,  of  course,  a 
matter  of  experience,  of  living,  and  it  may 
be  that  many  of  those  to  whom  the  experi¬ 
ence  is  a  real  and  constant  one  might  be 
unable  to  find  for  it  a  satisfactory  intellectual 
expression.  Many  would  be  content,  and 
wisely  content,  with  using  the  expression, 


The  Function  of  Prayer  119 

familiar  to  every  Christian,  of  the  Father  in 
Heaven.  Among  recent  attempts  to  find  a 
more  scientific  or  philosophic  expression,  1 
think  the  most  successful  is  the  Emersonian 
word  Oversold. 

The  fundamental  facts  in  regard  to  the 
Divine  nature  which  make  prayer  possible 
seem  to  be  the  following.  First,  the  im¬ 
mediate  contact  of  the  human  spirit  and  the 
Divine,  so  that  every  man  can  at  all  times 
hope  to  attain  to  the  Divine  presence.  It  is 
a  corollary  of  this  that  by  means  of  such 
contact  all  human  beings  are  united  one  to 
the  other  in  at  least  the  possibility  of  a  Divine 
fellowship.  And  second,  that  strength  and 
wisdom  from  an  unmeasured  Divine  store¬ 
house  may  pass  into  a  man’s  life  under  certain 
conditions.  Conservation  of  energy  may  be 
a  law  in  the  physical  universe,  but  the  under¬ 
lying  spiritual  universe  knows  no  such  law. 

Between  the  human  and  the  Divine  there 
is  a  barrier — the  barrier  of  the  will.  This  is, 
as  it  were,  the  gate  between  man  and  the 


120  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

Divine ;  and  man  has  a  strange  power  to  bar 
the  gate,  and  to  keep  it  barred.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  has  the  power  to  throw  open 
his  soul  to  higher  influences,  which  he  cannot 
indeed  command,  but  which,  if  he  set  himself 
to  welcome  them,  will  not  fail  to  act  upon 
his  life. 

Prayer,  broadly  speaking,  is  the  intercourse 
between  the  human  and  the  Divine.  It  is 
through  prayer  that  a  door  is  opened  whereby 
Divine  influences  pass  into  human  life.  It  is 
by  investigation  and  thought  that  man  dis¬ 
cerns  the  facts  of  the  world  about  him  and 
the  history  of  the  human  race  in  the  past. 
It  is  by  incessant  and  far-seeing  activity  that 
he  subdues  the  visible  world  to  his  purposes. 
But  it  is  not  alone  by  investigation  nor  by 
active  energy  that  he  can  translate  his  moral 
life  into  a  higher  key,  or  attain  to  knowledge 
of  the  Divine.  Here  he  must  be  less  acquisi¬ 
tive  than  receptive.  He  must  attend  and 
wait,  and  ever  be  ready  to  admit  into  his 
heart  and  his  life  the  higher  influences  which 


The  Function  of  Prayer  12 1 

come  to  his  door.  Prayer  is  in  essence  a 
waiting,  a  humble  approach  of  the  human 
to  the  Divine.  Yet  although  it  be  largely 
passive,  it  is  not  purely  passive,  but  has  in  it 
an  element  of  activity.  Herein  it  is  like 
attention,  which  is  a  waiting  for  knowledge, 
but  a  waiting  which  involves  some  active  strain, 
partly  because  he  who  attends  attends  to  some 
things  rather  than  to  others,  partly  because  he 
who  attends  waits  with  muscles  and  nerves 
braced,  ready  to  turn  to  definite  purpose  that 
which  he  thus  learns  by  patience  and  self- 
control.  Like  attention,  then,  prayer  is  a 
mixture  of  the  active  and  the  passive.  To 
enter  upon  it  a  man  must  strive  with  full 
purpose  of  heart  and  a  determination  to  do 
away  with  the  barriers  that  rise  before  him. 
But  unless  this  active  striving  be  met  by,  and 
indeed  be  merged  in,  a  flood  of  power  from  a 
source  outside  and  above  man,  it  can  lead  to 
nothing. 

Now  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the 
spirit  of  prayer  in  modern  days  suffers  great 


122  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

hindrance.  There  seems  to  be  uncertainty  as 
to  the  efficacy  of  prayer  and  its  acceptability. 
Men  who  in  past  days  would  have  almost 
been  regarded  as  saints  are  not  in  the  habit  of 
praying.  Many  good  men  have  persuaded 
themselves  that  the  only  admissible  prayers 
are  acts  of  submission  to  the  revealed  will  of 
God,  and  efforts  to  accept  it  with  loving 
willingness.  And  those  who  retain  the  habit 
of  prayer  are  perhaps  more  and  more  given  to 
using  the  particular  formulas  handed  down  in 
the  churches,  praying  by  the  book  rather  than 
with  the  free  spirit. 

It  seems  to  me  that  if  the  intercourse 
between  the  Divine  and  the  human  will  be  no 
delusion,  but  a  real  experience,  then  prayer  is 
the  vital  breath  of  religion.  I  propose  to 
examine  some  of  the  speculative  difficulties 
which  in  our  days  cling  to  it,  and  to  see  if 
they  are  really  fatal.  These  difficulties  are 
of  two  classes :  first,  those  which  arise  from  a 
strong  conviction  of  the  dominion  of  law  and 
order  in  the  world,  and  which  lead  to  doubt  as 


The  Function  of  Prayer  123 

to  the  efficacy  of  prayer ;  and,  second,  those 
which  arise  from  a  refined  conception  of  the 
Divine  nature,  and  which  lead  to  doubt  as  to 
the  real  morality  of  prayer.  In  my  opinion, 
both  of  these  sets  of  difficulties  may  be  met. 
Both  have  their  origin,  not  in  experience,  but 
in  mistaken  theory.  For  the  slightness  of 
treatment  which  the  necessities  of  time  and 
opportunity  force  on  me,  I  must  ask  pardon. 


11 

The  objections  to  the  value  and  efficacy  of 
prayer  which  arise  from  a  strong  sense  of  law 
and  order  in  the  world  are  most  strongly  felt 
by  those  who  pursue  physical  science.  Having 
given  their  whole  lives  to  the  ascertainment 
of  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect,  the  investi¬ 
gation  of  orderly  trains  of  phenomena  in  the 
material  world,  they  gradually  acquire  a  belief, 
which  may  almost  be  called  a  fanaticism,  that 
nowhere  in  the  world  are  chance  or  caprice  to 
be  found ;  that  all  things  move  in  a  pre- 


1 24  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

ordained,  or  rather  fully  regulated,  way 
towards  an  inevitable  goal ;  and  that  no 
human  prayer  can  do  anything  to  alter  that 
course.  To  such  thinkers  it  seems  that  their 
view  is  based  upon  experience — experience 
added  to  day  by  day,  and  at  last  amounting 
to  an  overwhelming  certainty.  And  yet  this 
notion  is  really  in  complete  disaccord  with 
life.  Invariable  law,  fixed  order,  may  be 
traced  in  the  physical  world  ;  but  when  we 
turn  from  the  physical  to  the  human  world 
we  find  something  entirely  different.  I  should 
be  the  last  to  say  that  if  we  could  analyse  to 
the  utmost,  trace  back  to  its  deepest  recesses, 
the  nature  of  human  conduct,  we  should  find 
at  its  root  chance  or  caprice.  Chance  is 
merely  a  human  or  subjective  view  of  things. 
When  a  die  is  thrown,  its  course  is  strictly 
regulated  by  the  forces  bearing  upon  it ;  we 
only  call  the  result  chance  because  we  cannot 
trace  those  forces.  Even  the  motion  of  the 
hand  which  throws  the  die  is  not  so  fortuitous 
as  it  seems :  human  free-will  is  in  a  great 


The  Function  of  Prayer  125 

degree  illusory.  But  whatever  in  these  mat¬ 
ters  be  the  ultimate  philosophic  truth,  it  is  at 
least  perfectly  clear  and  altogether  undeniable 
that  human  action  does  not  proceed  according 
to  laws  at  all  like  those  of  nature. 

As  material  civilisation  progresses,  the 
phenomena  of  the  visible  world  are  gradually 
transferred  from  the  realm  of  caprice  to  that 
of  natural  law,  until  all  the  material  universe 
is  seen  to  be  part  of  an  orderly  cosmos,  a  great 
realm  in  which  effect  follows  cause  with  un¬ 
varying  regularity,  so  that  the  man  who  can 
see  so  far  into  the  ways  of  nature  as  to  pro¬ 
duce  the  cause  is  sure  that  the  effect  will 
follow.  The  astronomer  proves  by  his  calcu¬ 
lations  that  the  movements  of  sun  and  planets 
proceed  according  to  fixed  law.  The  chemist 
can  tell  to  a  certainty  what  result  will  follow 
if  he  mingles  this  and  that  substance :  this 
proves  the  fixity  of  law  in  the  physical  world. 
Men  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns  nor  figs  of 
thistles  ;  hence  we  know  that  the  vegetable 
world  also  has  its  settled  ways.  And  the 


126  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

success  which  has  attended  attempts  to  vary 
domesticated  species  of  animals  is  a  proof  that 
even  in  the  breeding  of  animals  arrangement 
is  at  least  within  certain  limits  possible,  and 
therefore  nature  follows  a  clear  and  determined 
course. 

But  at  every  step  upwards  from  the  physical 
to  the  animated  world  the  presence  of  fixed 
law  grows  less  clear,  and  when  we  reach 
mankind  it  becomes  comparatively  faint  and 
doubtful.  It  is  true  that  unless  there  were 
uniformities  in  human  nature,  unless  men’s 
motives  worked  in  a  partly  familiar  course, 
anything  like  wise  legislation  would  be  im¬ 
possible.  The  statesman  who  is  to  succeed 
must  judge,  and  judge  on  the  whole  rightly,  as 
to  the  effects  of  his  laws.  And  though  states¬ 
men  are  very  often  mistaken  in  these  matters, 
it  must  be  allowed  that  a  really  wise  and  dis¬ 
cerning  man  would  scarcely  be  greatly  at  fault 
as  to  the  general  results  of  his  legislation. 

But  this  reliance  upon  the  uniformity  of 
human  nature,  while  it  is  in  place  in  dealing 


The  Function  of  Prayer  127 

with  nations  and  communities,  is  out  of  place 
when  it  is  a  question  of  individuals.  The 
wisest  observers,  the  most  intimate  friends,  of 
A  and  B  cannot  tell  with  certainty  and  pre¬ 
cision  what  line  of  conduct  they  will  adopt 
under  given  circumstances.  There  is  an  un¬ 
accountable,  what  may  perhaps  be  called  a 
miraculous,  element  in  all  conduct.  Man 
cannot  act  without  motive,  but  he  has  the 
power  of  choosing  between  motives,  of  dwell¬ 
ing  on  one  rather  than  another  until  it  acquires 
preponderant  force.  And  he  has  the  power  of 
admitting  or  excluding  the  influence  of  the 
spiritual  influences  which  lie  around  the  springs 
of  conduct.  A  man’s  will  may  well  be  com¬ 
pared  to  the  sliding  gates  of  the  lock  of  a 
river,  which  may  be  closed  against  the  stream, 
or  freely  opened  to  let  it  through.  We  are  in 
daily  and  hourly  contact  with  the  spiritual 
world,  and  our  characters  in  the  main  depend 
upon  the  kind  of  relations  which  we  establish 
with  it. 

It  is  within  the  realm  of  human  conduct  and 


128  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

character — a  realm  which,  whether  under  law  or 
not,  is  not  under  law  which  excludes  freedom 
— that  the  province  of  prayer  is  included.  The 
will  of  God  as  revealed  in  human  life  is  not  like 
the  will  of  God  as  revealed  in  nature.  And 
the  experience  of  thousands,  repeated  day  by 
day  and  hour  by  hour,  leads  us  to  think  that 
the  effect  of  prayer  on  human  life  and  conduct 
is  clear  and  indubitable.  One  may  even  ven¬ 
ture  to  say  that  no  prayer  in  regard  to  one’s 
own  character  and  doings  is  ever  wholly  in 
vain,  if  it  be  a  real  motion  of  the  will  and  not 
the  repetition  of  a  formula.  Can  the  same  be 
said  of  prayers  in  regard  to  the  character  and 
life  of  other  people  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
recent  movements  of  psychology  tend  to  make 
this  at  least  very  probable,  since  they  seem  to 
indicate  in  no  uncertain  way  that  human 
personalities  are  not  so  rigidly  walled  off  one 
from  the  other  as  some  suppose.  There  would 
seem  to  be  some  communion  between  all 
spirits,  and  a  profound  spiritual  substratum 
with  which  all  personalities  are  in  communion. 


The  Function  of  Prayer  129 

To  use  a  physical  analogy,  the  waves  of 
spiritual  force  set  in  motion  by  prayer  spread 
from  soul  to  soul.  And  yet  this  physical 
analogy  is  misleading,  because  the  waves  on 
water  spread  according  to  physical  and  un¬ 
varied  law ;  but  in  the  spiritual  world  there  is 
nothing  of  invariability,  but  a  great  variety  of 
action  the  manner  of  which  we  are  wholly  un¬ 
able  to  follow.  We  can  only  say  that  there  is 
nothing  whatever  in  our  knowledge  of  the 
human  world  to  lead  us  to  think  that  prayer 
for  others  need  be  ineffectual.  Prayers  that 
the  fixed  laws  of  the  material  world  may  be 
violated  on  any  special  occasion  are  no  doubt 
inadmissible.  They  not  only,  as  experience 
clearly  shows,  produce  no  result,  but  they  are 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  religion,  since  they 
imply  that  the  will  of  God  as  revealed  in  the 
world  of  matter  is  variable,  whereas  it  is  known 
to  be  invariable.  To  pray  that  iron  may  float, 
or  the  sun  go  backward  towards  his  rising, 
would  be  monstrous ;  and  all  prayers  which 

ask  for  the  violation  of  natural  law  are  of  this 

9 


130  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

character.  But  to  pray  for  Divine  influence 
in  the  human  world  is  perfectly  legitimate, 
since,  according  to  our  experience,  there  is  a 
continuous  and  incalculable  stream  of  spiritual 
influence  flowing  into  the  realm  of  human 
personalities. 

A  rough  but  very  practical  test  of  the  legiti¬ 
macy  of  a  prayer  lies  in  this :  what  is  or  can 
be  matter  of  scientific  prediction  is  not  a  fit 
subject  of  prayer.  If  we  know  or  can  calcu¬ 
late  exactly  what  will  result  from  certain 
causes  in  the  visible  world,  then  prayer  of  sub¬ 
mission  may  be  legitimate,  but  prayer  express¬ 
ing  desire  is  not.  It  may  seem  strange,  as  a 
result  of  this  distinction,  that  the  sphere  of 
legitimate  prayer  shrinks  as  the  bounds  of 
scientific  prediction  are  extended  ;  but,  strange 
or  not,  this  is  the  truth.  We  have,  however, 
no  reason  to  think  that  scientific  prediction  will 
ever  invade  the  realm  of  human  personality. 

Before  passing  from  this  topic  to  the  next, 
I  must  say  a  word  on  the  difficult  question 
how  far  the  spiritual  changes  which  can  un- 


The  Function  of  Prayer  1 3 1 

doubtedly  be  produced  by  prayer  react  upon 
the  body.  This  question  takes  in  our  day  a 
very  concrete  form  :  whether  faith-healing  is 
possible.  Most  people  know  to  what  extent 
trust  in  faith  as  a  remedy  for  disease  has 
spread  in  recent  years  among  such  sects  as  the 
Christian  Scientists  and  the  Peculiar  People. 
I  shall  not  be  able  thoroughly  to  consider  this 
matter,  but  perhaps  I  may  be  excused  if  I  ex¬ 
press  my  convictions  in  regard  to  it.  The  too 
great  materialism  which  has  ruled  in  our 
medical  schools — the  materialism  which  regards 
the  spirit  almost  as  a  negligible  quantity  in 
relation  to  the  body — has  naturally  given  birth 
to  a  reaction  which  perhaps  has  gone  to  an 
extreme  of  fanaticism,  regarding  the  spirit  as 
everything  and  the  body  as  its  mere  corollary, 
its  unreal  outward  manifestation.  This  re¬ 
action,  I  say,  is  quite  natural.  And  it  is 
certainly  based  upon  fact.  I  know  from 
experiences  which  have  come  within  my  own 
observation  that  physical  illness  can  be  and 
often  is  greatly  alleviated  by  what  happens  in 


132  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  spirit,  and  more  particularly  by  the  results 
of  prayer.  St  James  says,  “  The  prayer  of 
faith  shall  save  the  sick  ” ;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  these  words  are  as  true  to-day  as 
when  they  were  written.  At  the  same  time, 
to  trust  to  prayer  in  such  a  matter  rather  than 
to  the  medicine  based  on  long  experience  may 
easily  become  a  mere  fanaticism. 


hi 

Thus,  so  far  as  the  world  of  humanity  is 
concerned,  there  is  no  reason  whatever  for 
supposing  prayer  to  be  ineffectual.  But 
another  and  a  more  serious  question  remains 
— whether  such  prayer  is  legitimate.  Is  our 
ignorance  and  folly  to  attempt  to  guide  the 
power  and  the  wisdom  of  God  ?  Do  we  really 
know  what  is  good  for  us  or  for  our  friends  ? 
Is  it  not  better,  on  the  whole,  to  trust  to  the 
goodness  of  God,  as  revealed  in  the  natural 
and  spiritual  worlds,  rather  than  to  besiege 
the  Divine  presence  with  multitudes  of  short- 


The  Function  of  Prayer  133 

sighted  and  often  self-contradictory  petitions  ? 
This  is  a  view  which  is  taken  in  our  days  by 
many  high-minded,  and  even  saintly,  men,  and 
yet  I  think  that  it  is  based  upon  false  obser¬ 
vations  and  theories ;  and  while  it  appears  to 
be  the  extreme  of  modesty,  it  really  shows 
spiritual  arrogance. 

Prayer,  looked  at  in  a  mere  phenomenal 
way  as  a  perpetual  fact  of  the  religious 
experience,  is  seen  to  consist  of  two  kinds, 
or  rather  perhaps  to  hover  between  two  poles, 
which  are  on  the  one  side  an  endeavour  to 
subordinate  one’s  own  will  to  the  will  of  God, 
on  the  other  side  an  attempt  to  induce  the 
Divine  Power  to  aid  us  in  our  endeavours  to 
do  what  we  desire  in  the  world,  or  to  be 
propitious  to  those  to  whom  we  are  attached 
by  affection.  There  is  no  rigid  line  to  be 
drawn  between  the  two  kinds  of  prayer : 
logically,  one  can  clearly  discern  between 
them ;  but  in  practice  prayer  is  constantly 
fluctuating  between  the  two  extremes.  If 
there  were  no  personal  desire  in  a  prayer,  it 


134  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

would  scarcely  be  human ;  if  there  were  no 
element  of  submission  to  the  Divine  will  in 
a  prayer,  it  would  not  be  moral  or  Christian. 

It  is  to  be  presumed  that  even  the  doubters 
whom  we  are  considering  would  approve  of 
acts  of  devotion  and  submission  to  the  will  of 
God.  Their  doubt  only  applies  to  petitionary 
prayer. 

The  Founder  of  Christianity,  and,  after  His 
example,  all  the  great  saints  of  the  Christian 
Church,  have  taught  that  it  is  not  only  natural, 
but  right,  to  ask  not  only  for  spiritual  gifts  in 
prayer,  but  also  to  ask  things  needful  and 
desirable  for  oneself  and  one’s  friends ;  for 
daily  bread  as  well  as  for  daily  strength ;  in 
fact,  to  ask  in  prayer  such  things  as  one  would 
ask  of  a  father  ideal  in  wisdom  and  power. 
Such  an  attitude  in  mind  and  will  seems  to 
me  above  criticism.  1  would  only  add  that 
we  must  remember  that  when  the  Founder 
of  Christianity  spoke  of  filial  trust  in  and 
communion  with  God,  the  ideal  of  the  fatherly 
relation  which  was  before  Him  was  a  very  lofty 


The  Function  of  Prayer  135 

and  severe  one.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  the 
parental  relation  has  in  many  places  been  of 
late  years  softened  and  even  been  degraded, 
and  that  many  sons  are  accustomed  to  ask  of 
their  fathers  and  to  receive,  not  what  is  good 
for  them,  but  whatever  they  fancy  they  want. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that,  whatever  be  the  plan 
on  which  the  world  is  ruled,  it  certainly  has  no 
likeness  to  the  government  of  a  foolish  and 
indulgent  parent. 

Regarding  prayer,  as  we  are  now  regarding 
it,  from  the  psychological  point  of  view,  we 
see  at  once  that  it  must  stand  in  close  relations 
with  character  and  with  intellectual  outlook. 
Prayers  framed  at  a  different  level  from  a 
man’s  nature  have  for  him  little  meaning. 
Thus  I  do  not  think  there  is  the  least  need  to 
criticise  the  simple  petitionary  prayers  of  the 
majority  of  Christians.  And  I  may  add  one 
or  two  considerations  which  may  perhaps  still 
further  justify  them. 

First,  then,  it  may  be  observed  that  a  prayer 
is  not  a  spell.  In  magic  and  witchcraft  and  all 


136  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  black  remains  of  prehistoric  superstition 
which  have  always  existed  by  the  side  of  purer 
religion  it  has  been  supposed  that  words  of 
prayer  have  a  force  in  themselves,  that  spiritual 
powers  can  be  bent  and  driven  by  the  will  of 
man  to  do  his  bidding.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  say  that  in  Christian  prayer  there  is  nothing 
of  this  ;  no  Christian  would  suppose  that,  apart 
from  the  will  of  God,  his  prayer  had  any  power. 
“  Not  my  will,  but  Thine,  be  done,”  is  an  essen¬ 
tial  condition  of  it. 

And,  second,  the  habit  of  prayer  certainly 
has  a  raising  and  purifying  influence  on  the 
character.  One  sees  in  the  history  of  religion 
how  in  all  countries  and  all  ages  man 
approaches  the  Divine  will  in  egotism,  eager 
to  secure  for  himself  such  and  such  advantages, 
and  how  by  degrees  his  desires  are  purified  so 
that  his  prayers  take  continually  a  loftier  and 
nobler  tone.  If  prayer  went  out  into  the  void 
it  would  not  be  so :  that  it  is  so  proves  that 
prayer  is  a  real  communion  with  a  real  Power. 
Just  as  the  man  or  woman  who  lives  with 


The  Function  of  Prayer  137 

others  of  fine  character  grows  better  by  the 
contact,  so  the  heart  is  purified  by  the  habit 
of  prayer. 

Surely  it  must  have  been  the  experience  of 
many  Christians  that  they  have  uttered  a 
prayer  in  all  sincerity  and  with  full  desire,  and 
then  in  a  few  days  have  found  that  they  have 
risen  to  a  level  from  which  they  see  that  it 
was  far  better  that  the  prayer  should  not  be 
granted.  It  would  seem  that  in  the  very 
action  of  prayer  not  only  is  the  heart  strength¬ 
ened  but  also  the  eyes  are  enlightened,  so  that 
one  can  take  a  wider  and  a  wiser  view  of  one’s 
surroundings.  When  the  human  will  and  the 
Divine  come  in  contact,  unless  the  human  will 
be  very  stubborn  and  egotistic  it  is  in  some 
measure  transformed,  and  proceeds  at  a  higher 
level. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  human  nature  sets 
a  limit  to  this  process.  It  may  be  that  a  few 
great  saints,  or  a  few  men  and  women  who 
have  set  aside  all  human  ties  and  relationships, 
and  live  apart  in  monasteries,  may  reach  a 


138  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

point  at  which  they  are  ready  to  merge  all 
their  petitions  in  the  desire  that  the  Divine 
will  may  be  done.  But  such  a  point  can 
scarcely  be  reached  by  any  who  live  an  active 
life  in  the  world,  who  have  parents  and  children, 
relatives  and  friends,  who  feel  the  natural 
desires  of  humanity  and  the  duty  of  furthering 
their  own  undertakings. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Founder  of 
Christianity,  when  He  taught  His  disciples  to 
pray,  made  a  desire  for  the  doing  of  God’s 
will  the  primary  petition  ;  but  He  added  to  it 
a  prayer  for  daily  bread,  giving  a  human  touch 
to  fit  the  prayer  for  ordinary  mortals. 

Prayer,  as  I  have  already  observed,  must 
bear  a  relation  to  the  character  of  the  peti¬ 
tioner.  And  he  who  prays  only  that  the 
will  of  God  may  prevail  must,  to  be  consistent, 
have  freed  his  life  from  all  worldly  cares  and 
hopes,  even  from  all  worldly  affections  and 
interests. 

It  is  necessary  to  insist  upon  this,  because 
many  people  in  our  day  are  driven  from  the 


The  Function  of  Prayer  139 

habit  of  prayer  by  difficulties  of  a  speculative 
kind,  which  may  be  thus  phrased  :  44  Since  God 
is  wiser  than  man,  how  dare  we  assume,  in  the 
Divine  presence,  that  we  know  what  will  be 
good  for  us  and  others  ?  and  since  the  Divine 
will  is  better  than  the  human,  how  dare  we 
try  to  urge  upon  it  the  courses  which  to  us 
seem  the  best  ?  ” 

It  seems  to  me  that  we  here  come  in  contact 
with  such  metaphysical  and  a  priori  modes  of 
reasoning  as  are  out  of  place  since  our  ways 
of  thought  have  become  more  positive  and 
scientific.  If  we  are  to  modify  in  some  degree 
the  simple  Christian  faith  of  past  ages,  as  no 
doubt  we  must  modify  it,  our  grounds  should 
not  be  some  metaphysical  and  rationalist 
assumption  as  to  the  nature  of  things  Divine, 
but  a  careful  observation  of  the  action  of  the 
Divine  element  in  the  world.  Submission  to 
the  Divine  will  is,  within  certain  limits,  good ; 
but  what  would  become  of  the  world  if  the 
best  people  persuaded  themselves  that  they 
had  only  to  acquiesce  in  the  decrees  of 


140  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

Providence,  and  quietly  wait  to  see  God’s 
ways  vindicate  themselves  ?  To  our  observa¬ 
tion,  the  will  of  God  does  not  appear  as 
moulding  all  events  to  a  perfect  end,  whether 
we  will  or  no,  but  as  militant  in  the  world, 
slowly  making  its  way  against  sin  and  evil,  or 
often  apparently  giving  way  before  these 
powerful  foes.  It  is  our  business  not  only  to 
acquiesce  in  or  hope  for  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
but  to  fight  for  it  day  by  day.  We  each  of  us 
have  it  in  our  power,  in  some  minute  degree, 
to  thwart  the  will  of  God  as  revealed  in  the 
world,  or  to  help  it.  The  will  of  God  works 
more  or  less  effectually  in  the  world  accord¬ 
ingly  as  we  receive  or  reject  it.  For  it  works 
through  man  ;  and  every  man  can  open  or 
shut  the  gates  through  which  the  Divine 
influence  flows  into  his  heart  and  will. 

Thus,  though  it  be  perfectly  true  that  God 
is  wiser  than  man,  yet  the  wisdom  of  God  has 
to  be  received  into  the  human  brain  and  to  find 
course  in  human  conduct.  And  though  it  be 
true  that  the  Divine  will  is  better  than  the 


The  Function  of  Prayer  14 1 

human,  yet  it  is  through  the  human  will  that 
the  Divine  will  acts.  And  the  will  of  a  man 
is  not  a  source  of  infinite  energy,  but  a  closely 
limited  power,  which  is  intimately  dependent 
upon  all  sorts  of  human  conditions.  Thus  it 
would  seem  that  a  man  is  justified  in  petition¬ 
ing  for  anything  which  will  increase  his 
efficiency  as  a  medium  of  the  Divine  will. 
And  he  is  justified  in  asking  for  others  what¬ 
ever  will  expand  and  beautify  their  person¬ 
alities.  That  what  A  asks  for  often  cannot  be 
attained  without  the  denial  of  what  B  asks  for 
is,  of  course,  quite  true :  but,  as  I  said  before, 
a  prayer  is  not  a  spell ;  it  rests  with  a  higher 
tribunal  to  decide  between  A  and  B.  Mean¬ 
time,  each  may  pray,  as  he  must  work, 
according  to  the  best  light  he  has. 

Thus  there  is  nothing  disquieting  in  the 
thought  that  when,  for  example,  two  Christian 
nations  are  at  war,  each  is  earnestly  praying 
for  victory.  If  a  nation  did  not  pray  at  all 
events  for  preservation,  its  spiritual  life  would 
cease.  The  soldier  in  the  field  will  pray  for 


142  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

his  own  life ;  the  nation,  for  the  success  of  its 
arms.  And  the  more  far-seeing  and  wiser 
heads  in  the  nation  will  be  praying  that, 
however  the  battle  may  turn,  the  national 
life  may  be  preserved  and  the  national 
character  raised.  On  the  supposition  on 
which  we  started,  that  in  prayer  there  is  an 
actual  relation  to  a  living  spiritual  Power, 
there  is  nothing  in  all  this  to  disturb  our 
minds.  There  is  truth  in  the  Greek  saying 
that,  seeing  one  is  a  man,  one  must  not  be 
ashamed  of  feeling  and  thinking  as  a  man. 
Nor  need  one  be  ashamed  of  feeling  and 
praying  as  an  Englishman,  or  as  a  Church¬ 
man,  or  as  the  father  of  a  family,  or  as  a  man 
of  business,  provided  the  element  of  ultimate 
deference  to  the  will  of  God  be  present.  The 
worst  of  taking  too  lofty  a  line  in  these 
matters  is  that  the  aspirations  are  apt  to  be 
on  quite  a  different  level  from  the  daily  life ; 
which  is  a  fertile  cause  of  hypocrisy.  One 
puts  away  one’s  morality  on  a  shelf,  or  leaves 
it  in  one’s  seat  at  church,  and  makes  a  shift 


The  Function  of  Prayer  143 

to  live  in  the  world  without  it.  In  a  certain 
sense  it  is  well  to  “hitch  one’s  wagon  to  a 
star,”  but  it  does  not  do  to  trust  to  the  star 
for  actual  progression.  The  great  thing  is 
that  prayer  should  be  on  the  level  of  the  life, 
and  part  of  the  life ;  and  then,  of  course,  the 
higher  its  tone  the  better. 


IV 

A  question  which  has  long  divided  Christians 
is  the  lawfulness  of  prayer  for  rain  or  for  fine 
weather.  And  with  a  brief  consideration  of 
this  question  I  may  well  conclude,  letting  it 
serve  as  a  touchstone  for  the  views  here  set 
forth.  On  the  one  hand,  rain  and  sunshine  are 
facts  of  the  material  world,  and  so  presumably 
matters  of  physical  causality.  But  on  the  other 
hand,  as  is  constantly  impressed  upon  us  by 
experience,  it  is  quite  impossible  in  the  present 
state  of  science  to  foretell  with  accuracy  the 
weather  even  of  to-morrow.  And  one  of  our 
greatest  men  of  science,  in  speaking  of  the 


144  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

weather,  has  written  words  which  demand 
careful  attention.1  “  Does  our  physical  know¬ 
ledge  authorise  us  in  saying  that  the  course 
of  the  weather  is  as  much  fixed  as  that  of  the 
planets  in  their  orbits  ?  I  doubt  it.  There 
is  much  tending  to  show  that  the  state  of  the 
atmosphere  depends  a  good  deal  upon  a 
condition  of  unstable  equilibrium.  .  .  .  Now 
the  nature  of  unstable  equilibrium  is  that  it 
is  a  condition  in  which  the  very  slightest 
disturbing  cause  will  suffice  to  start  a  move¬ 
ment  which  goes  on  accumulating  till  it 
produces  a  complete  alteration  of  position. 
It  is  perfectly  conceivable  that  a  child,  by 
lighting  a  bonfire,  might  produce  an  ascending 
current  of  air  which  in  peculiar  cases  might 
suffice  to  initiate  a  movement  which  would 
go  on  accumulating  till  it  caused  the  condition 
of  the  atmosphere  to  be  widely  different  from 
what  it  would  have  been  had  the  child  not 
acted  as  I  have  supposed.  It  is  not,  therefore, 
by  any  means  certain  that  the  condition  of 
1  Sir  G.  G.  Stokes,  Gifford  Lectures ,  p.  220. 


The  Function  of  Prayer  145 

the  weather  is  solely  determined  by  physical 
conditions  the  effect  of  which  could  even 
conceivably  be  calculated  beforehand.” 

To  me,  this  reasoning  seems  to  be  quite 
unanswerable.  If  it  be  sound,  then  weather 
can  never  be  a  matter  of  scientific  prevision, 
being  in  part  produced  by  human  agency. 
And  since  human  agency  is  precisely  the 
region  in  which  spiritual  forces  act,  prayer  is 
in  no  way  illegitimate  as  regards  the  weather. 
Whether  such  prayer  is  effectual  in  producing 
a  result  we  can  never  know  from  observation, 
since  we  have  to  do  with  what  is  eoc  hypothesi 
a  region  in  which  we  are  unable  to  distinguish 
between  the  various  causes  which  may  have 
led  to  the  result.  If  rain  falls,  we  can  never 
know  how  far  it  is  a  result  of  human  agency 
and  how  far  of  regular  atmospheric  conditions. 
But  we  can,  without  hesitation,  say  that  there 
is  nothing  formally  illegitimate  or  impious  in 
praying  for  rain  or  for  fine  weather. 

There  is,  however,  another  reason  against 

prayer  for  this  or  that  kind  of  weather — 

10 


146  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

a  reason  on  which  a  man  of  the  greatest 
natural  piety,  Charles  Kingsley,  dwelt.  Even 
if  we  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that 
the  prayer  of  man  may  be  one  of  the 
determining  elements  in  future  weather,  yet 
it  is  certainly  only  a  very  rash  person  who 
could  suppose  that  he  knew  what  at  a  given 
moment  would  be  the  weather  which  would 
be  on  the  whole  most  expedient  for  a  country 
or  mankind.  A  man  may  know  that  present 
rain  would  be  good  for  his  own  fields  and 
those  of  his  neighbours.  But  what  may  be 
the  further  effects  of  having  rain  instead  of 
sunshine  at  a  particular  time  and  place  he 
certainly  cannot  know.  Those  effects  go  on 
through  all  time.  So  he  can  scarcely  judge 
what  sort  of  weather  at  the  moment  will  be 
for  the  eventual  good  even  of  his  own  farm. 

Thus,  though  there  does  not  seem  to  me 
to  be  anything  shocking  or  impious  in  prayers 
for  rain  or  for  fine  weather,  yet  the  progress 
of  knowledge  tends  to  put  them  out  of  court. 
In  days  when  the  weather  was  not  regarded 


The  Function  of  Prayer  147 

as  resulting  from  a  vast  adjustment  of  physical 
conditions  in  a  state  of  unstable  equilibrium, 
then  it  was  natural  to  ask  of  Heaven  a  shower 
whenever  one  seemed  desirable.  But  as  we 
realise  that  the  effects  even  of  a  shower  will 
go  on  and  on,  we  begin  to  see  clearly  that  in 
asking  for  a  particular  kind  of  weather  we  are 
wandering  quite  in  the  dark.  It  is  such 
considerations  as  these  which  will,  before  long, 
condemn  public  prayers  for  rain  or  sunshine. 
They  will,  I  think,  be  put  out  of  court,  not 
by  the  victory  of  atheism,  but  by  the  growth 
of  a  wider  outlook.  Men  will  be  more 
disposed  to  take  the  weather  as  it  comes, 
and  by  science  and  foresight,  especially  by  the 
introduction  of  schemes  of  irrigation,  to  make 
the  best  use  of  it  they  can. 

Briefly  to  sum  up.  Prayer  is  based  on  real 
fact  and  experience.  The  proper  field  for  it 
is  the  human  field,  psychic  and  spiritual 
powers,  and  the  working  of  these  in  the 
world  of  natural  forces  and  of  action.  And 


148  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

prayer  should  be  in  close  relation  to  character : 
if  this  be  the  case,  it  will  have  power,  not 
merely  to  raise  the  emotions  and  purify  the 
will,  but  will  even  be  the  means  of  the 
revelation  to  man  of  the  Divine  will. 


V 


THE  TRANSLATION  OF  CHRISTIAN 

DOCTRINE 

My  present  subject,  “  The  translation  of 
Christian  doctrine,”  may  seem  to  be  concerned 
rather  with  words  than  with  things ;  but  I 
shall  enlarge  the  meaning  of  the  word  transla¬ 
tion,  and  take  it  to  refer  not  only  to  words, 
but  to  thought,  and  to  the  great  realities 
with  which  religious  thought  has  to  do  ;  and 
since  I  shall  not  be  able  in  all  parts  of  this 
discourse  to  keep  apart  the  narrower  and  the 
broader  renderings  of  the  word  translation,  it 
will  be  well  to  begin  with  a  few  words  in 
regard  to  them. 


i 

In  spite  of  the  close  and  constant  intercourse 
which  goes  on  between  European  nations,  we 

149 


150  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

are  yet  all  aware  that  there  are  words  in  each 
of  our  modern  languages  which  cannot  be 
expressed  in  other  tongues.  These  words  are 
usually  deeply  expressive  of  the  character  of 
peoples.  They  are  full  of  suggestions  as  to 
history  and  race.  For  example,  the  English 
word  gentleman  has  no  equivalent  abroad,  and 
it  is  a  proof  that  the  English  upper  classes 
retained,  while  our  modern  language  was 
forming,  some  of  the  fine  qualities  which 
should  go  with  noble  birth,  but  did  not  so 
often  accompany  it  in  France  and  Italy.  The 
French  word  ennui  expresses  a  habit  of  the 
restless  and  ardent  F rench  mind :  the  word 
which  we  have  invented  as  a  parallel,  boredom, 
really  expresses  something  different.  In 
Germany,  the  land  of  philosophic  abstrac¬ 
tions,  the  word  Gottbewusstsein  has  passed 
in  some  schools  as  a  term  for  the  essential 
element  in  religion  ;  but  what  is  conveyed 
to  an  Englishman  by  the  translation  God- 
consciousness  ? 

These  three  obvious  examples,  which  might 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  1 5 1 

easily  be  multiplied,  are  sufficient  to  prove 
that  translation  from  one  language  to  another 
may  be  not  merely  difficult,  but  impossible ; 
because  words  are  intelligible  as  carrying  with 
them  various  implications,  historic  and  psycho¬ 
logic,  which  cannot  be  lightly  carried  from 
language  to  language.  In  the  same  way 
some  poetry  of  an  objective  character,  like 
that  of  Homer  and  of  Scott,  can  be  effect¬ 
ively  translated  into  many  languages.  But 
no  one  can  render  in  a  foreign  tongue  the 
writings  of  an  intensely  national  poet  like 
Burns,  or  of  a  poet  who,  like  Shelley,  plays 
much  on  the  associations  and  implications 
of  words. 

Starting  from  the  translation  of  words,  we 
have  already  passed  from  words  to  thought; 
for  in  fact  all  words,  except  those  which 
represent  visible  and  tangible  things,  are  the 
product  of  thinking,  and  sum  up  the  results 
of  thought  and  experience.  What  I  have 
said  of  the  term  Qottbewusstsein  applies  to 
most  of  the  technical  terms  of  German  philo- 


152  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

sophy.  In  France  and  England,  German 
philosophy  is  understood  but  by  few ;  it  is 
not  only  written  in  a  foreign  language,  but 
it  is  a  foreign  mode  of  thought,  which  has 
to  be  changed  and  inverted  before  it  can 
really  become  part  of  the  mental  furniture  of 
thinking  men  in  other  lands. 

But  there  is  a  far  greater  and  far  more  subtle 
difficulty  that  arises  when  we  read  the  works, 
not  of  modern  French  and  German  writers, 
but  of  those  authors  who  wrote  in  past  ages. 
If  they  wrote  in  our  own  tongue,  I  think  that 
scarcely  one  of  us  escapes  the  illusion  of 
supposing  that,  because  the  words  are  familiar 
to  us,  the  thought  must  be  easily  intelligible. 
Yet  if  we  consider  how  circumstances  have 
changed  during  the  last  century,  how  immense 
have  been  the  alterations  in  our  intellectual 
perspective,  it  must  appear  reasonable  to  think 
that  the  writings  of  our  own  ancestors  of  some 
centuries  back  must  be  at  least  as  hard  really 
to  understand  as  those  of  our  contemporaries 
in  distant  lands. 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  153 

But  finally,  when  the  writings  which  we 
have  to  consider  are  foreign  as  well  as  antique, 
come  down  to  us  through  great  wastes  of  time 
and  across  the  profound  catastrophes  which 
sever  the  successive  strata  of  civilisation,  then 
indeed  we  can  scarcely  hope  really  to  under¬ 
stand  them  without  a  long  and  a  painful 
discipline.  As  we  have  to  learn  the  dead 
language  in  which  they  were  written,  so  we 
have  to  learn  the  ways  of  thinking  which 
dominated  the  writers,  the  kind  of  education 
which  they  had  undergone,  the  nature  of 
their  outlook  over  the  world  of  nature  and 
of  man. 

I  cannot  at  present  develop  this  thought  in 
detail.  But  I  can  briefly  call  attention  to  the 
manner  in  which  the  great  difficulty  of  really 
understanding  the  writings  of  the  ancient 
world  clearly  appears  in  our  education.  On 
me,  in  my  career  as  a  University  teacher,  it  has 
been  more  strongly  impressed  year  by  year 
how  imperfectly  we  succeed  in  our  teaching 
of  the  Classics  in  carrying  on  the  minds  of 


154  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

students  from  the  mere  languages  and  books 
of  Greece  and  Rome  to  the  understanding  of 
the  civilisation  of  Greece  and  Rome,  to  the 
Greek  and  the  Roman  way  of  looking  at  ethics 
and  religion,  art  and  science.  Cambridge  in 
this  matter  is  more  deficient  than  Oxford ; 
but  neither  University  comes  up  to  the  ideal 
set  up  by  Matthew  Arnold  in  one  of  his 
American  addresses  : 1  “  By  knowing  ancient 
Greece  I  understand  knowing  her  as  the  giver 
of  Greek  art ;  and  a  guide  to  a  free  and  right 
use  of  reason  and  to  scientific  method,  and  the 
founder  of  our  mathematics  and  physics  and 
astronomy  and  biology  ;  I  understand  knowing 
her  as  all  this,  and  not  merely  knowing  certain 
Greek  poems  and  histories  and  treatises  and 
speeches.” 

But  if  modern  educated  Englishmen  very 
imperfectly  succeed  in  really  understanding 
Greek  and  Roman  writers,  through  entering 
into  their  surroundings  and  seeing  with  their 
eyes,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  interpretation  of 

1  Literature  and  Science,  p.  91. 


T ranslation  of  Christian  Doctrine  155 

the  Bible  in  England  ?  I  am  quite  ready  to 
allow  that  even  the  least  instructed  person,  so 
he  possess  a  spiritual  capacity  and  a  native  wit, 
may  draw  from  that  inexhaustible  well  an 
almost  infinite  store  of  guidance  and  encourage¬ 
ment,  of  direction  in  life  and  of  hope  in  death. 
There  is  noble  truth  in  that  fine  verse  of  the 
119th  Psalm,  “I  have  more  understanding 
than  all  my  teachers,  for  Thy  testimonies  are 
my  meditation.”  But  when  we  are  speaking 
not  of  practical  wisdom,  but  of  intellectual 
comprehension,  then  we  must  needs  confess 
that  to  really  understand  the  Bible  one  would 
need  a  far  more  thorough  training  than  any  to 
be  found  in  our  Universities ;  that  a  lifetime 
devoted  to  this  purpose  without  stint  and 
without  hindrance  would  take  one  but  a  little 
way.  The  Bible  is  not  a  book  but  a  litera¬ 
ture  ;  and  none  of  the  ancient  forms  of 
civilisation,  from  that  of  Babylon  to  that 
of  Rome,  has  failed  to  leave  deep  impressions 
on  it. 

I  fear  that  some  readers  may  be  wondering 


156  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

whether  the  length  of  this  introduction  may 
not  be  out  of  proportion  to  its  importance  to 
the  subject  before  us.  But  they  will  give  up 
this  fear  if  they  will  accept  my  view  of  the 
nature  of  Christian  doctrine.  We  must  not 
for  a  moment  forget  that  Christian  doctrine  was 
originally  expressed  entirely  in  the  languages 
of  Greece  and  Rome :  in  words  which,  as  I 
have  said,  summed  up  the  results  of  ages  of 
Greek  thought  and  Roman  experience.  And, 
besides  this,  it  has  largely  a  Biblical  basis. 
In  origin  it  is  a  child  of  the  contact  of 
Jewish  religion  with  Greek  thought ;  but 
the  breath  of  life  is  brought  to  it  by  great 
facts  of  history,  by  a  life  lived  in  Judea,  and 
continued  in  the  realm  of  the  spirit  after  it 
had  been  eclipsed  on  earth.  And  religion 
being  of  all  human  things  the  most  con¬ 
servative,  the  doctrine  of  our  own  days  is 
related  to  doctrine  as  originally  formulated 
by  a  bond  most  direct  and  most  unbreakable. 
Modern  art  is  not  content  with  the  narrow 
limits  which  to  Pheidias  and  Praxiteles 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  157 

seemed  sufficient.  The  modern  drama  is  not 
so  far  from  Shakespeare  as  is  Shakespeare 
from  Sophocles  and  Euripides.  Even  modern 
philosophy  has  moved  on  a  vast  distance  from 
the  systems  of  Aristotle  and  Zeno.  But  as  to 
doctrine,  ancient  authority  still  largely  holds. 
When  Newman  and  his  contemporaries 
brought  in  a  great  movement  which  has 
since  had  untold  influence  in  the  Church,  to 
what  did  they  make  appeal  ?  N ot  primarily 
to  the  facts  of  the  religious  consciousness,  not 
to  the  works  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  not  even 
especially  to  the  Bible,  but  to  the  early 
Fathers  of  the  Church.  Since  then  the  High 
Church  movement  has  found  ways  of  appeal¬ 
ing  to  the  multitude ;  but  at  first  it  spoke 
specially  to  the  learned,  to  whom  the  docu¬ 
ments  of  the  early  Church  were  accessible. 
It  thus  begins  to  be  clear  that  the  interpreta¬ 
tion  of  the  doctrine  of  early  Christianity  is  no 
easy  task,  but  one  needing  the  intelligence 
and  the  historic  imagination  of  the  ablest 
among  us. 


158  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

The  Bible  we  have  to  take  as  it  is :  we 
cannot  alter  it  or  add  to  it.  As  it  stands,  it 
offers  an  unlimited  field  to  the  critic,  the 
historian,  the  thinker.  And  it  offers  an  un¬ 
limited  field  also  to  all,  whether  learned  or 
unlearned,  who  have  to  live  a  life,  and  who 
have  a  soul  within  them.  But  doctrine  is 
different.  Doctrine  is  essentially  an  adapta¬ 
tion  of  religious  truth  to  certain  intellectual 
surroundings.  Doctrine  naturally  changes  its 
expression  as  systems  of  thought  change. 
Doctrine  requires  translation :  not  merely  to 
be  rendered  in  the  words  of  each  language, 
but  in  phrases  suitable  to  the  conditions  of 
each  community. 

Let  me  quote,  in  confirmation  of  what  I 
have  said,  a  passage  from  Dr  Westcott:1 
“  The  co-ordination  of  dogmatic  definitions 
with  the  historical  circumstances  under  which 
they  were  framed  often  becomes  of  critical  im¬ 
portance  from  the  fact  that  terms  and  modes 
of  expression  outlast  the  systems  of  thought 

1  Lessons  from  WoiL,  p.  69. 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  159 

out  of  which  they  arose.  The  technical 
language  of  scholasticism,  for  instance,  which 
is  still  widely  current  in  theological  discussions, 
is  only  to  be  understood  rightly  by  reference 
to  that  type  of  the  Aristotelian  philosophy  by 
which  it  was  moulded.  We  use  with  little 
reflection  such  words  as  4  species  ’  and  4  form  ’ 
and  4  matter  ’  and  4  accidents,’  forgetting  that 
they  ever  carried  with  them  precise  concep¬ 
tions  more  or  less  different  from  those  which 
they  now  vaguely  suggest.  How  few,  to 
take  the  most  signal  example  of  all,  who 
speak  fluently  of  Transubstantiation  ever 
pause  to  consider  that  the  term  is  essentially 
bound  up  with  a  philosophical  theory  wholly 
foreign  to  our  present  modes  of  thought, 
so  that  it  is  practically  impossible  for  anyone 
in  the  present  day  to  hold  the  doctrine  of 
Transubstantiation  as  it  was  held  by  the 
doctors  at  the  Council  of  Lateran  in  the 
thirteenth  century.” 


160  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

ii 

Doctrine  of  a  developed  and  formal  kind  in 
the  Church  is  mainly  due,  as  everyone  knows, 
to  the  initiative  of  St  Paul,  although  I  do 
not  believe  that  doctrine,  in  the  mind  of  the 
Apostle,  took  anything  like  so  fixed  and 
crystallised  a  form  as  most  commentators 
suppose.  It  was  fluid,  and  often  inconsistent. 
How  did  St  Paul  set  about  its  formulation, 
and  what  was  his  reason  for  doing  so  ? 

Had  St  Paul  been  purely  a  Jew,  he  would, 
perhaps,  no  more  have  set  about  stating 
doctrine  than  did  Isaiah  or  the  Psalmists. 
But  at  the  beginning  of  our  era  the  Jews,  like 
all  other  nations  of  the  known  world,  had  been 
invaded  and  partly  conquered  by  the  spirit  of 
intellectual  investigation,  which  had  taken  its 
rise  in  Ionia,  had  been  thoroughly  acclimatised 
at  Athens,  and  from  Athens  had  spread  into 
all  countries.  As  an  intellectual  force,  Greek 
philosophy  can  be  compared  to  only  one  thing 
in  the  history  of  the  West,  and  that  one  thing 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  1 6 1 


is  the  spread  of  the  scientific  spirit  in  Europe 
during  the  last  few  centuries.  Between 
Babylon  and  London,  no  man  then  could 
think  speculatively  without  failing  into  Greek 
ways  of  thought.  At  Tarsus,  where  Paul  was 
born,  there  was  a  school  of  the  Stoic  philo¬ 
sophy.  But  we  have  not  to  do  with  the 
influences  of  Paul’s  education  so  much  as  with 
the  influences  which  affected  his  ancestors  and 
his  country.  Doubtless  no  nation  of  the 
Roman  world,  not  even  Rome  herself,  offered 
so  stubborn  a  resistance  to  the  inflow  of  Greek 
influences  as  did  Judea.  But  even  Judea  was 
not  impervious.  In  the  writings  of  Philo  and 
others  we  see  how  Jewish  and  Greek  elements 
of  thought  were  combined  ;  and  the  result  of 
the  combination  was  that  each  contributed  to 
the  other  the  elements  which  it  lacked.  Greece 
gave  the  idealism  of  Plato  ;  Judea  gave  the 
very  thing  which  was  always  lacking  in  Greek 
philosophy,  a  truer  theory  of  the  will.  One 
of  the  noblest  results  of  the  contact,  before 

the  Christian  era,  was  the  Stoic  philosophy. 

11 


1 62  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

Another  result  was  the  Pauline  system  of 
doctrine. 

No  careful  reader  of  the  New  Testament 
can  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the  gap  which 
exists  between  the  teaching  of  the  historic 
Jesus  as  set  forth  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels 
and  the  teaching  of  the  Pauline  epistles, 
although  often  under  the  striking  dissimilarity 
of  expression  the  same  ideas  persist.1  What 
is  the  connection  between  the  two  ?  A  cur¬ 
rent  view  is  that  Paul  received  from  the 
companions  of  our  Lord  accounts  of  his  life 
and  conversation,  and  out  of  those  accounts  de¬ 
veloped  by  argument  and  reasoning  doctrinal 
views.  Of  this  theory  we  can  make  short 
work,  since  Paul  himself,  in  the  Galatian 
Epistle,  utterly  repudiates  it,  and  repudiates 
it  with  indignation.  From  the  Apostles,  as 
he  tells  us,  he  received  certain  facts  as  to  the 
Master’s  life  ;  but  the  substance  of  his  faith  he 
received  by  no  tradition  and  from  no  human 

1  This  is  well  set  forth  by  Mr  Scott  in  Cambridge  Biblical 
Essays,  edited  by  Dr  Swete,  1909. 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  163 

witness,  but  direct  from  his  Heavenly  Master, 
by  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ. 

But  this  inspiration,  this  communion  with 
the  Divine,  what  is  it  ?  It  is  certainly  not  the 
communication  of  infallible  truth.  Infallible 
truth  cannot  possibly  be  conveyed  in  human 
words,  for  words  are  full  of  human  weakness 
and  folly.  There  are  no  better  descriptions  of 
Divine  inspiration  than  those  given  in  the 
Fourth  Gospel.  The  Evangelist  cannot  ex¬ 
press  what  he  wants  to  express  in  one  phrase, 
so  he  borrows  from  the  thought-language,  so 
to  speak,  of  various  races.  With  the  Greek, 
he  says  that  the  Christian  inspiration  is  the 
Word,  the  Logos.  With  the  Persian  fire- 
worshipper,  he  says  it  is  light  shining  in  dark¬ 
ness.  With  the  Jew,  he  says  that  it  is  life. 
It  is  an  overpowering  force  which  comes  from 
without,  but  which  works  from  within,  from 
the  very  centre  of  a  man’s  being  and  person¬ 
ality,  mastering  his  will  and  yet  by  mastering 
it  making  it  stronger,  kindling  emotion  with  a 
sacred  flame,  illuminating  the  intellect  with  a 


164  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

wisdom  which  is  not  of  the  world.  It  draws 
a  man  from  the  sensuous  circumference  of  his 
life  into  its  hidden  centre,  and  from  that  centre 
sends  him  forth  again  with  renewed  power  and 
goodness  among  material  surroundings. 

Let  us  come  at  once  to  the  relations  between 
St  Paul’s  Christian  inspiration  and  his  system 
of  doctrine.  Here  we  have  indeed  translation 
in  the  less  literal  sense  of  the  word.  Prac¬ 
tical  impulses,  the  burning  enthusiasm  of  a 
missionary,  the  profound  faith  and  love  and 
hope  of  a  Christian,  had  to  be  set  down  in 
words  intelligible  to  the  intellect.  St  Paul 
had  to  explain  to  converts  why  the  Jewish 
religion  had  never  given  him  peace,  and  how 
in  Christ  he  found  that  peace ;  what  relation 
his  Master’s  death  and  resurrection  bore  to  the 
forgiveness  of  sins  and  the  death  of  the  lower 
self ;  how  the  corrupt  human  will  could  be  by 
Christ  purified  and  cleansed.  All  this  he  had 
to  express  in  terms,  and  the  terms  must  be 
such  as  would  be  intelligible  to  the  minds  of 
his  contemporaries,  that  is  to  say,  to  men  who 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  165 

thought  on  the  lines  of  Hellenistic  Greek  and 
Jewish  philosophy.  Had  he  been  merely  a 
Jew,  he  would  perhaps  have  spoken  only  the 
language  of  poetry  and  prophecy  ;  had  he  been 
only  a  Greek,  he  would  perhaps  have  antici¬ 
pated  the  shadowy  speculations  of  Marcion 
and  the  Gnostics.  But  he  was  a  chosen  vessel, 
because  there  were  united  in  him  the  two 
highest  intellectual  products  of  the  time,  the 
Greek  doctrine  of  the  reason  and  the  Jewish 
doctrine  of  the  will.  Not  only  were  these  the 
highest  products  of  the  time,  but  they  really 
contained  the  seeds  of  future,  even  of  modern, 
systems  of  thought.  And  thus  it  came  about 
that  Pauline  doctrine  was  fitted  to  become  a 
lasting  embodiment  of  Christian  ideas,  to 
present  them  in  a  form  which,  even  after 
it  had  ceased  to  be  fully  intelligible,  could 
yet  be  well  rendered  under  later  intellectual 
conditions. 

The  efficacy  of  Pauline  doctrine  as  a  vehicle 
of  Christian  ideas  has  been  abundantly  proved 
in  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church.  Again 


1 66  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

and  again  has  a  fresh  intellectual  embodi¬ 
ment  of  Christianity  sprung  from  the  study  of 
the  Pauline  writings.  Augustine,  Anselm, 
Luther,  Jansen,  may  almost  be  said,  on  the 
intellectual  side,  to  be  reincarnations  of  St 
Paul.  Each  of  these  great  teachers  took 
his  start  from  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles 
and  produced  a  neo-Paulinism  suited  to  the 
circumstances  of  his  own  age.  The  well  is 
deep,  and  has  even  yet  not  been  exhausted. 
If  Kant,  Spinoza,  and  Plato  may  be  recognised 
as  at  the  bottom  of  the  utterances  of  this  and 
that  thinker  of  our  days,  how  much  more  may 
we  expect  from  modern  editions  of  the  great 
teachings  of  St  Paul  ? 

But  though  the  main  principles  of  the 
Pauline  construction  are  thus  likely  to  abide 
with  us  as  long  as  the  Christian  Church  abides, 
yet  that  construction  is  anything  but  faultless. 
No  one  was  better  aware  of  this  than  the 
Apostle  himself,  who  wrote,  “  I  speak  as  to 
wise  men,  judge  ye  what  I  say,”  and  wrote 
these  words  when  he  was  speaking  of  one  of 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  167 

the  most  serious  parts  of  all  his  teaching,  the 
doctrine  of  the  Lord’s  Supper.  As  he  says  in 
another  place,  he,  as  a  wise  master-builder, 
laid  the  foundation,  but  on  the  foundation 
buildings  of  very  varying  degrees  of  value 
might  be  reared.  After  all,  St  Paul  was  a 
rabbi  trained  in  the  rabbinical  ways  of  reason¬ 
ing  ;  and  we  see  in  the  history  of  religion 
that  no  heavenly  inspiration  at  a  moment  and 
miraculously  changes  a  man’s  ways  of  thinking 
and  reasoning.  The  heart,  the  will,  may  be 
suddenly  cleansed  and  purified — of  that  there 
are  a  thousand  examples  in  history — but  the 
growth  of  intellect  is  slow  and  regular. 


hi 

Let  us  take  in  order  the  two  main  sections 
of  St  Paul’s  doctrinal  teaching — his  Christ- 
ology,  and  his  Soteriology,  or  doctrine  of  sin 
and  of  justification.  Speaking  quite  roughly 
and  generally,  one  may  say  that  Christologic 
doctrine  was  developed  partly  on  a  Pauline 


1 6  8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

basis  by  the  Greek  intellect  during  the  first 
centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  down  to  the 
days  of  Athanasius  ;  but  the  doctrine  of  human 
salvation  was  of  later  growth,  and  has  been 
of  greatest  moment  in  the  history  of  the 
Church  since  the  days  of  Augustine.  In  all 
branches  of  the  Reformed  Church  it  has  been 
the  main  and  central  support  of  the  house 
of  faith. 

To  the  minds  of  many  Christians  the  out¬ 
lines  of  the  Christology  of  St  Paul  have  been 
blurred  in  consequence  of  our  inveterate,  our 
almost  inevitable,  habit  of  interpreting  his 
statements  in  the  light  of  later  beliefs.  If  I 
give  a  sketch  of  the  Pauline  doctrine,  I  shall 
state  it  as  far  as  possible  in  St  Paul’s  own 
words.  Jesus  Christ,  St  Paul  taught,  was  a 
heavenly  Being,  destined  from  times  eternal 
for  human  redemption,  in  whom  and  through 
whom  all  things  were  created  both  in  heaven 
and  in  earth.  Being  rich,  for  our  sakes  he 
became  poor.  Being  in  the  likeness  of  God, 
he  counted  it  not  an  object  of  ambition  to  be 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  169 

on  an  equality  with  God,  but  emptied  himself, 
taking  the  form  of  a  slave,  being  made  in 
likeness  of  man  ;  and  being  found  in  fashion 
as  a  man  he  humbled  himself,  becoming 
obedient  to  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross. 
Wherefore  also,  God  highly  exalted  him,  and 
gave  him  the  name  which  is  above  every  name, 
that  every  tongue  should  call  him  Lord. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  making  of 
theories  as  to  the  Person  of  Christ,  which  went 
on  for  centuries,  the  tide  of  opinion  turning 
first  in  one  direction  and  next  in  another. 
Dr  Edwin  Hatch  writes :  44  Even  after  the 
elimination  of  Gnosticism,  the  Church  re¬ 
mained  without  any  uniform  Christology  ;  the 
Trinitarians  and  the  LTnitarians  continued  to 
confront  each  other,  the  Unitarians  at  the 
beginning  of  the  third  century  still  forming 
the  large  majority.”  Victory  declared  itself 
for  the  Trinitarians  in  the  days  of  Athanasius  ; 
and  the  defeated  party  have  since  those  days 
always  been  in  a  minority. 

It  cannot,  I  think,  be  denied  that,  tried 


170  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

by  the  touchstone  of  the  Nicene  or  other 
formulas,  the  Christology  of  St  Paul,  taken  in 
its  obvious  sense,  would  be  found  to  be  not 
merely  defective  but  incorrect.  It  was  pos¬ 
sible  by  a  skilful  system  of  interpretation  to 
avoid  characterising  it  as  such.  As  literary 
criticism  applied  to  the  New  Testament 
writings  grows  keener  and  keener,  it  becomes 
harder  and  harder  to  regard  the  Christology 
of  St  Paul  as  identical  with  that  to  which  the 
Church  has  as  a  whole  been  committed.  If 
doctrine  is  to  be  regarded  as  objective  assertion 
in  regard  to  supernatural  facts,  how  can  the 
Church  acquit  St  Paul  of  stating  those  facts 
incorrectly  ?  In  fact,  Tertullian,  in  his  con¬ 
troversy  with  Marcion,  almost  goes  the  length 
of  calling  St  Paul  a  heretic. 

But  on  the  other,  the  relative  view  of 
doctrine,  the  matter  presents  no  great  diffi¬ 
culty.  It  would  indeed  be  bold  to  accuse 
St  Paul  of  heresy.  But  it  is  scarcely  pre¬ 
sumptuous  to  say  that  his  translation  into 
theory  of  the  great  facts  of  the  spiritual  life  is 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  1 7 1 

after  all  an  imperfect  translation.  He  exhibits 
to  us  aspects  of  truth  ;  but  his  doctrines  no 
more  contain  and  limit  the  truth  than  do  the 
formulae  of  any  of  the  Creeds.  His  doctrine 
of  Christ,  like  the  closely  parallel  Logos 
doctrine  of  the  Fourth  Evangelist,  was  in  its 
form  guided  and  determined  by  the  Grasco- 
Jewish  speculation  of  Alexandria — a  specula¬ 
tion  to  which  angels  and  archangels,  virtues 
and  powers,  embodiments  of  the  divine 
wisdom  and  the  divine  reason,  were  matters 
of  everyday  familiarity  and  the  subjects  of 
never  -  ending  metaphysical  distinctions  and 
constructions. 

Let  me,  as  regards  early  Christology,  dis¬ 
tinguish  three  things,  which  for  convenience 
we  may  call  the  root,  the  stem,  and  the  leaves 
The  root,  the  great  fact,  is  the  continuation 
upon  earth  and  in  the  world  of  spirit  of  the 
life  of  Christ.  For  Christian  doctrine  there 
can  be  no  foundation  but  this  :  apart  from  the 
life  of  the  Church  in  Christ  there  would  be  no 
Christian  doctrine  to  discuss.  The  stem  is 


172  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

such  interpretation  of  this  fact  as  accords  with 
the  unchanged  principles  of  human  nature,  and 
so  abides  with  us  always.  The  leaves  are  the 
temporary  expression  in  the  language  of  suc¬ 
cessive  peoples  and  the  formulae  of  successive 
schools  of  philosophy.  But  the  tree  in  its 
growth  has  thrown  out  many  shoots  not  des¬ 
tined  to  permanence ;  and  the  leaves  are  in 
fact  always  changing  from  season  to  season, 
and  even  from  day  to  day. 

In  Christian  doctrine  a  struggle  for  exist¬ 
ence  between  various  tendencies  and  ways  of 
expression  has  always  been  going  on.  And 
as  regards  Christology  we  may  perhaps  ven¬ 
ture  to  say  without  presumption  that  the 
doctrinal  discussions  of  the  first  three  cen¬ 
turies  belonged  to  another  kind  of  intellectual 
world  from  ours,  and  seldom  convey  to  us 
definite  meaning,  though  doubtless  here  and 
there  a  sentence  may  come  home  with  pro¬ 
found  suggestion. 

The  Greek  theologians  of  the  third  and 
fourth  centuries  found  in  the  discussion  of  the 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  173 

doctrine  of  the  Trinity  an  infinite  field  for  the 
exercise  of  the  intellect ;  they  delighted  in 
subtle  distinctions  and  refined  interpretations. 
Greek  technical  terms  such  as  ovcrla,  Woo-tclo-i ?, 
(pva-L?f  do  not  really  admit  of  translation. 
When  Tertullian  formulated  for  the  Western 
Church  the  doctrine  that  in  God  there  was  una 
substantia  and  tres  personae ,  he  was  translating 
Greek  terms  which  had  had  a  long  and  intri¬ 
cate  history  not  only  in  the  Church  but  among 
philosophers.  But  these  very  terms  substantia 
and  persona  had  in  the  concrete  and  matter-of- 
fact  Latin  language  a  very  different  aspect  to 
that  of  the  far  subtler  Greek  words  which  they 
represented.  The  English  words,  substance 
and  person,  which  one  is  obliged  to  use  in 
rendering  them,  are  really  entirely  different. 
The  English  mind  is  peculiarly  unapt  at  fine 
metaphysical  distinctions ;  and  the  English 
language  cannot  be  made  to  convey  them. 
The  word  person  is  specially  misleading.  Of 
all  those  who  in  Church  repeat  the  phrases 
of  the  Creeds  in  which  the  Divine  Trinity  is 


174  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

described,  it  may  be  doubted  if  any  at  all  use 
those  phrases  in  the  sense  in  which  they  were 
intended.  The  few  whose  knowledge  of  early 
Christian  doctrine  is  sufficiently  profound  to 
enable  them  to  grasp  the  original  meaning 
will  probably  feel  that  even  what  is  true  in 
them  needs  to  be  put  otherwise.  Perhaps  to 
many  the  phrases  will  appear  to  be  an  asser¬ 
tion  of  such  an  approach  to  Tritheism  as  would 
have  been  branded  by  the  almost  universal 
consent  of  the  early  Church  as  heretical. 
There  has  been  a  talk  of  retranslating  the 
Athanasian  Creed  :  but  in  fact  it  cannot  be 
translated ;  the  English  language  does  not 
contain  words  in  which  it  could  be  rendered. 
We  should  be  driven  to  speak  of  hypostases. 


IV 

Let  us  next  turn  to  the  other  side  of  the 
Pauline  doctrine,  the  side  concerned  with  man 
and  his  salvation.  Here  we  are  more  dis¬ 
tinctly  in  the  region  of  the  knowable,  of  that 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  175 

which  can  be  observed  and  set  forth  in  ordered 
language.  But  we  could  scarcely  expect  the 
first  missionaries  of  Christianity  to  regard  the 
essential  facts  and  processes  of  the  life  of  the 
spirit,  then  springing  into  sudden  and  glorious 
manhood,  with  the  calm  eyes  of  the  scientific 
inquirer.  To  them  everything  was  marvellous 
and  unexampled,  a  sudden  illumination  of  a 
new  world  of  thought  and  feeling,  a  great  and 
comprehensive  revelation  direct  from  God. 
The  process  of  salvation  daily  going  on  in  the 
Church  was  here  the  great  fact  of  experience. 
St  Paul’s  theory  to  explain  that  process  was 
not  simple  but  manifold,  borrowing  elements 
alike  from  Jewish,  from  Greek,  and  from 
Roman  sources. 

The  Jews  being  a  race  not  given  to  philo¬ 
sophic  theorising,  but  apt  to  throw  their 
explanations  of  spiritual  truths  into  a  mythic 
or  a  semi-historic  form,  it  cannot  be  surprising 
that  what  St  Paul  took  from  this  source  took 
the  form  of  a  historic  or  quasi-historic  doctrine. 
He  taught  that  sin  came  into  the  world  by 


176  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  transgression  of  Adam,  and  death  by  sin ; 
but  that  the  consequences  of  Adams  trans¬ 
gression,  which  appeared  in  the  life  of  all  of 
his  descendants,  were  done  away  by  the  suffer¬ 
ing  of  Jesus  Christ.  As  in  Adam,  who  was 
the  ancestor  of  all  men,  all  men  sinned,  so  in 
Christ,  the  representative  of  all  men,  all  may 
be  saved  from  sin  and  death.  The  results  of 
the  fall  of  Adam  were  done  away  by  the 
efficacy  of  the  voluntary  death  of  Jesus  Christ. 
But  St  Paul  is  the  last  of  writers  to  form  a 
definite  theory  and  to  work  it  out  in  logical 
detail.  It  is  not  of  what  we  call  history  that 
he  is  thinking.  In  other  passages  he  seems 
to  put  the  Law  almost  in  the  place  of  Adam’s 
fall  as  the  cause  of  sin  in  the  race,  until  by  the 
self-sacrifice  of  Christ  it  was  made  null,  so 
that  the  dispensation  of  law  gave  way  to  the 
dispensation  of  Divine  grace.  And  again,  in 
another  passage  we  have  the  harsh  and  start¬ 
ling  theory  that  sin  is,  after  all,  a  matter  of 
Divine  ordaining.  “  He  hath  mercy  on  whom 
He  will,  and  whom  He  will  He  hardeneth.” 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  177 

Paul  seems  here  to  speak  as  if  sin  and  salvation 
were  the  direct  results  of  the  Divine  decrees ; 
so  that  only  the  elect  can  escape  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  Devil. 

And  then,  parallel  to  these  theories,  which 

are  essentially  Jewish,  we  have  another  which 

is  not  only  Jewish  but  partly  Greek — in  fact, 

a  view  which  the  contact  of  the  Greek  and 

the  Oriental  mind  had  produced  in  great  Greek 

mystics,  the  notion  that  the  flesh  is  the  citadel 

of  evil,  that  it  acts  as  a  clog  upon  the  spirit, 

and  tends  ever  to  drag  it  down  into  the  mire 

of  sin  and  uncleanness.  This  view  lies  at  the 

basis  of  what  may  be  well  termed  Greek 

mystic  theology,  the  religion  of  Pythagoras 

and  the  Orphic  Societies.  It  was  at  the 

beginning  of  the  Christian  era  widely  diffused 

among  the  more  pious  of  the  Pagans  ;  and 

everywhere  in  the  Greek  world  there  existed 

secret  societies  whose  whole  purpose  was 

summed  up  in  the  desire  of  salvation  from 

the  impurity  of  the  flesh,  partly  by  the 

practice  of  asceticism,  and  partly  by  the 

12 


< 


178  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

invocation  of  some  Saviour-deity,  through 
communion  with  whom  the  flesh  might  lose 
its  corrupting  power. 

Further,  it  seems  scarcely  possible  to  regard 
as  fortuitous  the  very  remarkable  approxima¬ 
tions  which  the  views  of  St  Paul  as  to  the 
condition  of  the  Christian  under  grace  show 
to  the  Stoic  conception  of  the  wise  man,  who 
was  to  be  perfect  and  complete,  happy  amid 
persecutions  and  pains,  a  freeman  in  the  midst 
of  those  who  were  slaves  to  their  passions, 
above  the  reach  of  hostile  anger.  There 
existed,  as  we  know,  at  Tarsus,  a  school  of 
Stoic  philosophy,  the  discourses  of  the  leaders 
of  which  Paul  may  often  in  his  youth  have 
heard.  The  Stoic  teaching  would  arouse  quite 
as  much  indignation  as  assent  in  his  mind, 
but  nevertheless  he  might  absorb  something. 

In  the  Soteriology  of  St  Paul  there  are  also 
Roman  elements  ;  and  these  were  most  im¬ 
portant,  not  immediately,  since  for  a  long 
while  the  Greeks  did  the  thinking  of  the 
Church,  but  later,  when  Christian  doctrine  was 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  179 

fitting  itself  to  the  conditions  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  and  of  the  barbarous  kingdoms  which 
were  founded  on  its  ruins.  St  Paul  was  a 
Roman  citizen,  and  proud  of  being  a  Roman  ; 
and  in  his  time  some  of  the  fundamental 
conceptions  which  lay  at  the  basis  of  Roman 
law  and  were  gradually  formulated  under  the 
Roman  Empire  had  already  begun  to  influence 
thought  even  in  Asia  Minor.  When  St  Paul 
uses  such  words  as  ransom,  justification, 
propitiation,  when  he  speaks  of  Christians  as 
heirs  of  God,  when  he  discourses  of  adoption 
and  of  testamentary  dispositions,  he  is  speaking 
of  things  dealt  with  in  Roman  law,  and  things 
which  could  scarcely  be  thought  of  except  in 
the  manner  of  Roman  law.  Even  when 
St  Paul  speaks  of  law  as  distinguished  from 
grace,  though  the  Jewish  ceremonial  law  is 
in  his  mind,  the  Roman  civil  law  is  often 
there  also,  urging  the  tendencies  of  his 
thought  in  this  or  that  direction. 

We  are  told  that  the  inscription  set  up  on 
the  cross  of  our  Lord  was  written  in  Hebrew 


180  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

or  Aramaic,  and  in  Greek  and  in  Latin.  All 
these  languages  had  course  together  in 
Palestine,  and  with  the  languages  the  ways 
of  thinking  with  which  those  languages 
respectively  went  naturally.  Every  educated 
Jew  of  the  time  was  necessarily  trilingual ; 
and  one  may  fairly  say  of  St  Paul’s  Epistles 
that  they  are  essentially  trilingual. 

Some  of  the  disciples  of  St  Paul  so 
expanded  and  exalted  some  of  the  doctrines 
which  seem  naturally  to  belong  to  the  Pauline 
scheme  that  we  associate  those  doctrines 
rather  with  their  writings  than  with  his. 
For  example,  to  the  Writer  to  the  Hebrews 
is  due  the  working  out  of  two  of  the  great 
doctrines  of  Christianity — the  view  of  the  self- 
sacrifice  of  our  Lord  as  a  propitiation  for 
the  sins  of  mankind,  and  the  belief  that 
He  remains  as  a  priestly  mediator  between 
God  and  man.  Whence  immediately  these 
doctrines  came  it  is  not  easy  to  say,  for  the 
roots  of  both  go  back  to  the  very  beginnings 
of  civilisation.  The  slaying  of  animals,  or 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  1 8 1 


even  of  human  victims,  to  take  away  the 
guilt  of  sin,  is  a  primeval  custom  ;  and  the 
notion  that  the  priest  stands  between  God 
and  man,  representing  God  to  man  and  man 
to  God,  is  at  the  bottom  of  unnumbered  rites 
of  barbarous  peoples.  The  Writer  to  the 
Hebrews  baptized  these  primeval  religious 
ideas  into  Christ,  and  made  them  a  home  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Church.  He  is  a  charming 
writer,  full  of  beauty,  of  religious  fervour, 
of  inspiration ;  and  his  teaching  has  had  a 
marvellous  history  in  Christendom,  chiefly 
because  it  was  susceptible  of  many  interpreta¬ 
tions,  from  low  to  very  high,  and  because  it 
had  on  its  side  human  feelings  which  had  for 
untold  millennia  moved  the  heart  of  man  and 
sustained  his  spiritual  nature.  Perhaps  this 
writer  beyond  most  needs  fresh  interpretation, 
and  adaptation  to  a  changed  world  of  thought 
and  belief. 

v 

When  in  the  days  of  Augustine  the  centre 
of  gravity  of  Christian  thought  passed  from 


1 82  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

East  to  West,  a  great  change  passed  over  the 
character  of  doctrine.  In  Augustine  the 
genius  of  Latin  Christianity  became  fully  and 
consciously  embodied.  And  then  the  subject 
of  Christology  became  less  prominent  perhaps 
than  that  of  the  way  of  salvation.  But  the 
discussion  of  Soteriology  was  of  another  char¬ 
acter.  The  subtlety,  the  lightness,  the  love 
of  rhetorical  antithesis  which  belonged  to 
Greek  doctrinal  theorising  gave  way  to  a 
more  serious  and  more  practical  spirit.  The 
Church  as  a  vast  organisation  stepped  in  to 
control  the  license  of  thought.  The  work  of 
founding  a  new  social  order  was  too  serious 
to  allow  her  to  give  her  best  attention  to  mere 
theoretic  lore.  In  place  of  the  search  for 
truth,  she  put  the  virtue  of  obedience ;  in  the 
place  of  Scripture,  her  own  regulations.  And 
thus  for  ages  she  fixed  on  the  nations  of 
Europe  a  yoke,  perhaps  necessary  to  control 
their  wayward  youth,  but  becoming  intoler¬ 
able  as  they  grew  to  maturity. 

When,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Teu- 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  183 

tonic  nations  of  Europe  began  their  great 
revolt  against  the  spiritual  domination  of  Rome 
and  Italy,  the  great  leaders  of  the  Reformation 
accepted  in  a  very  great  degree  the  religious 
philosophy  of  the  Church  they  attacked. 
What  else  could  they  have  done  ?  They  had 
Plato  and  Aristotle ;  but  the  Church  had 
long  before  converted  Plato  and  Aristotle  to 
Christianity  and  even  to  orthodoxy.  They 
had  the  systems  of  the  great  Schoolmen  ;  but 
these  had  been  fashioned  to  justify  the  beliefs 
of  the  organised  faith  of  Western  Europe. 
Modern  philosophy  did  not  arise  in  Europe  until 
Descartes,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  deter¬ 
mined  to  strip  his  mind  of  all  beliefs  which  he 
could  possibly  deny,  and  to  start  afresh  from 
the  bare  facts  of  human  consciousness.  Thus 
the  doctrinal  formulas  of  Luther  and  Calvin 
and  Zwingli,  and  of  the  organisers  of  the 
Anglican  Church,  were  really  drawn  up  on  a 
purely  mediaeval  basis.  The  appeal  to  Scrip¬ 
ture  was  indeed  allowed  ;  and  from  that 
inexhaustible  source  of  truth  and  wisdom  was 


184  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

derived  the  best  of  that  which  the  great 
Reformers  had  to  give  to  the  world.  But 
again,  criticism  was  in  those  days  in  its  infancy, 
and  to  treat  the  writings  of  the  New  Testament 
in  any  objective  or  historic  way  was  impossible. 
Luther  valued  or  neglected  books  of  the  canon, 
not  on  critical  grounds,  but  by  the  light  of  his 
own  feelings. 

Surely,  then,  one  may  venture  to  say  that  the 
sixteenth  century  did  not  completely  succeed 
in  translating  the  formulae  of  Christianity  into 
the  languages  of  modern  Europe.  As  the 
Reformers  commonly  used  for  purposes  of 
doctrinal  statement  the  Latin  of  the  Western 
Church,  so  they  in  the  main  retained  the 
intellectual  methods  and  the  intellectual 
horizon  of  the  Western  Church.  They  ex¬ 
pelled  Latin  from  the  public  services  of  the 
Church  as  being  not  understanded  of  the  people, 
but  they  retained  many  formulae  which,  though 
put  in  modern  words,  belonged  wholly  to 
ancient  systems  of  thought — systems  which 
since  their  day  have  lost  steadily  in  dominance. 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  185 

In  Germany,  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century  there  arose  one  great  theological 
thinker  of  whom  it  may  fairly  be  said  that  he 
gave  a  new  character  to  doctrinal  statement. 
I  speak  of  Schleiermacher.  1  do  not,  of  course, 
mean  that  all  the  German  theologians  since 
his  day  have  been  of  his  school,  but  merely 
that  he  marks  an  era,  so  that  doctrinal  dis¬ 
cussions  since  his  day  have  in  point  of  method 
differed  from  those  which  preceded  his  day. 
He  did  for  theology  what  Kant  had  done  for 
philosophy — collected  it  into  his  own  hand  and 
sent  it  forth  on  a  new  career  in  the  world. 

In  England  we  have  certainly  had  no 
Schleiermacher.  We  have  had  no  religious 
thinker  who  has  in  power  of  thought  towered 
above  the  rest.  The  greatest  name  in  the 
English  theology  of  the  eighteenth  century  is 
W esley ;  the  greatest  name  in  the  theology 
of  the  nineteenth  century  is  Newman.  But 
Wesley,  at  all  events,  was  no  great  systematic 
thinker.  It  may  be  that  to  be  a  great  system¬ 
atic  thinker  is  scarcely  in  the  line  of  English 


1 86  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

genius,  though  there  are  certain  names  which 
may  be  cited  on  the  other  side.  However 
that  be,  the  fact  remains  that  though  theo¬ 
logical  doctrine  in  England  has  necessarily 
felt  the  great  changes  which  have  come  over 
the  thinking  of  the  world,  yet  the  influences 
which  have  affected  and  swayed  it  have  come 
from  many  sides,  and  have  radiated  rather 
from  a  number  of  remarkable  personalities 
than  from  any  dominant  school  of  philosophy. 
Coleridge  and  Carlyle  have  probably  as  deeply 
impressed  it  as  any  other  writers  ;  and  both 
Coleridge  and  Carlyle  were  perhaps  rather 
interpreters  of  German  thought  than  them¬ 
selves  great  original  thinkers. 

Thus  the  history  of  religious  thought  has 
been  much  harder  to  trace  in  England  than 
either  in  Roman  Catholic  countries  or  in 
Protestant  Germany.  It  has  had  a  hundred 
currents  and  eddies,  has  been  affected  by  all 
kinds  of  scientific  and  ethical  and  social 
influences.  It  may  be  compared  to  a  stream 
which,  has  flowed,  not  between  recognised 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  187 

banks,  but  in  a  multitude  of  divergent 
channels  over  a  flat  plain.  But  the  volume 
of  water,  to  continue  the  metaphor,  has 
probably  been  greater  in  England  than  any¬ 
where.  In  no  country  of  the  world,  prob¬ 
ably,  is  there  so  great  concern  for  religion  as 
in  our  country.  In  no  country  is  so  great 
a  force  of  will  and  character  brought  to  bear 
on  the  problems  of  the  religious  life  and  on 
the  doctrinal  views  which  give  the  current 
solutions  of  those  problems. 


VI 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  amorphous 
character  of  religious  theory  in  this  country 
is  in  all  ways  a  disadvantange.  Indeed,  it 
would  seem  in  some  respects  to  be  advan¬ 
tageous,  as  it  disperses  the  interest  of  religious 
thought  over  a  wide  field  and  fosters  the 
individuality,  combined  with  reliance  upon 
a  higher  Power,  which  has  been  the  secret 
of  the  success  with  which  the  world-mission 


1 88  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

of  England  has  been  hitherto  carried  out. 
But  perhaps  the  advantage  has  reached  its 
limit  ;  and  it  may  be  that  amid  the  rapidly 
changing  political  and  intellectual  horizons 
of  our  day  a  more  unified  and  conscious 
intellectual  appreciation  of  Christian  doctrine 
may  be  a  thing  desirable,  perhaps  even  a 
thing  necessary,  if  Christianity  is  to  be  to  us 
in  the  future  what  it  has  been  in  the  past. 
Biologists  tell  us  that  the  course  of  human 
evolution  does  not  proceed  at  a  uniform  pace  ; 
but  that  there  are  times  of  crisis  when  a  fierce 
and  sudden  pressure  has  compelled  those  races 
which  were  fit  to  survive  to  rise  rapidly  to  a 
higher  intellectual  level.  Our  own  day  is 
such  a  time  of  crisis.  No  one  who  sees  what 
is  going  on  in  the  world,  who  keeps  pace  with 
the  deeper  notes  of  warning  sounded  by  our 
captains  of  industry,  our  statesmen,  our  leaders 
in  education  and  social  reform,  can  be  blind  to 
the  necessity  which  has  come  on  us  to  set  the 
house  of  our  intelligence  in  order,  and  to  learn 
to  proceed  in  the  future  by  surer  methods  than 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  189 

have  prevailed  among  us  in  the  past.  The 
warning  applies  to  religion  as  well  as  to  other 
sides  of  human  thought  and  activity.  We 
must  make  up  our  minds  what  we  believe, 
and  why  we  believe  it ;  and  we  must  make  an 
effort  to  put  our  religious  affirmations  on  terms 
with  the  rest  of  our  mental  furniture,  if  we 
would  not  run  the  risk  of  losing  sight  of  those 
affirmations  altogether  amid  the  bustle  and 
hurry  of  modern  life. 

The  hard  and  closely  reasoned  doctrines  of 
Justification,  of  Election,  of  Original  Sin,  and 
so  forth,  have  by  degrees  lost  their  power  in 
the  world.  Even  among  the  orthodox  Dis¬ 
senters  of  England,  nay,  even  among  Scottish 
Presbyterians,  they  have  somehow  lost  their 
primacy.  If  we  examine  the  doctrinal  works 
which  have  been  recently  published  by  influ¬ 
ential  members  of  the  English  Church,  we 
find  that  their  centre  of  gravity  lies  rather  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  than  in  that  of 
the  Atonement.  The  change  is  an  important 
one.  In  any  case,  it  is  perfectly  certain  that 


i  go  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

formed  views  as  to  the  religious  nature  of  man 
and  his  power  of  corresponding  to  Divine 
influences  are  necessary  to  any  body  of 
Christians  who  mean  to  hold  their  own  amid 
existing  surroundings.  And  in  these  matters 
a  still  greater  change  of  method  and  outlook 
has  taken  place  during  the  last  century  than 
is  even  the  substitution  of  the  philosophy 
which  started  with  the  Kantian  criticism  for 
Greek  metaphysics.  For  the  nature  of  man, 
even  his  religious  nature,  need  not  be  taken 
on  faith,  but  can  be  observed — is  in  fact  matter 
of  science.  And  in  our  days  when  any  class 
of  phenomena,  physical  or  mental,  lies  open  to 
observation,  all  ancient  authority  in  regard  to 
it,  no  matter  how  venerable,  can  claim  but  a 
subordinate  place. 

Religious  psychology  is  a  new  study ;  and 
its  very  outlines  are  as  yet  scarcely  traced.  Its 
materials  must  be  taken  partly  from  the  study 
of  contemporary  minds  and  movements,  partly 
from  the  history  of  religion,  or  of  the  religions, 
in  the  past.  Hence  it  will  ascertain  what  in 


T ranslation  of  Christian  Doctrine  1 9 1 

fact  takes  place  under  these  or  those  religious 
conditions.  It  will  try  to  explain  the  past  by 
what  is  observed  in  the  present,  and  to  call  in 
the  testimony  of  the  past  to  supplement  the 
phenomena  of  our  own  days.  It  will  attempt 
to  draw  up  schemes  of  the  faculties  of  man 
and  the  way  in  which  those  faculties  find 
exercise  in  the  appreciation  and  reception  of 
what  is  ever  flowing  into  our  little  human 
world  from  the  infinite  ocean  of  being  which 
surrounds  it  as  the  Milky  Way  surrounds 
the  earth. 

I  am  not  going  to  pronounce  a  panegyric  on 
religious  psychology.  My  faith  in  the  per¬ 
ceptive  powers  and  the  reasoning  powers  of 
mankind  is  by  no  means  sanguine.  And  when 
one  enters  the  shadowy  recesses  of  the  human 
soul  the  very  light  of  day  seems  often  only 
darkness.  One  may  anticipate  a  number  of 
utterly  inadequate  attempts  to  fathom  the 
depths  of  the  divine  in  man — attempts  which 
may  well  by  their  poverty  bring  the  whole 
literature  of  the  subject  into  disrepute.  Not 


192  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

only  now,  but  probably  for  a  long  time  to 
come,  the  utterances  of  great  students  of 
themselves,  like  Augustine,  Bunyan,  Tauler, 
though  unscientific,  may  be  even  to  science 
of  greater  value  than  theories  of  man’s 
spiritual  nature  which  aim  at  being  systematic. 
But  for  all  that,  with  slow,  uncertain  steps, 
with  many  falls  and  failures,  religious 
psychology  must  take  its  way,  and  by 
degrees  it  will  emerge  into  a  safer  path. 

When  on  a  steamboat  one  passes  down  a 
river,  one  sees  the  water  fall  back  from  the 
banks  in  preparation  for  the  great  wave  which 
follows  the  steamboat.  It  is,  I  think,  by 
a  similar  automatic  movement  that  the 
theological  psychology  of  the  Reformers  is 
falling  away  in  preparation  for  the  future 
tide  of  religious  psychology.  And  meanwhile, 
as  is  natural,  all  sorts  of  pale  and  eviscerated 
ghosts  of  the  great  sixteenth  century  doctrines 
of  Substitution,  Redemption,  Justification, 
Election,  are  arising  among  us,  to  occupy 
in  a  temporary  and  partial  way  the  vacant 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  193 

place.  What  has  here  to  be  done  eventually 
is  to  translate  doctrine  from  the  absolute  tense 
of  theologic  affirmation  into  the  relative  tense 
of  scientific  hypothesis.  But  after  all,  the 
main  facts  on  which  observation  will  have 
to  work  are  the  same  facts  which  are  set 
forth  in  the  language  of  sublime  poetry  by 
the  Hebrew  Psalmists,  and  in  the  language 
of  philosophic  rhetoric  by  Paul  and  Augustine. 
Now,  as  in  the  past,  man  has  a  soul  to  be 
saved  ;  now,  as  in  the  past,  he  is  utterly  unable 
to  save  it  by  himself  without  Divine  aid  ;  now, 
as  in  the  past,  Divine  aid  is  vouchsafed.  All 
our  theories  cannot  alter  the  essential  facts : 
they  can  at  best  only  explain  those  facts. 
Probably  there  will  always  be  necessary  a 
certain  number  of  assumptions  which  cannot 
be  verified.  And  just  in  the  same  way  the 
theories  of  light,  of  electricity,  of  biology,  are 
full  of  hypotheses  which  cannot  be  verified. 

Thus,  after  all,  it  will  be  necessary  to  attach 

great  value  to  religious  history.  Besides  the 

psychology  of  observation,  we  need  the  history 

13 


ig4  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

of  the  Church  as  a  practical  guide.  There  will 
always  be  more  venturesome  schools  which 
appeal  with  confidence  to  present  fact,  and 
more  conservative  schools  which  will  tend  to 
rely  on  tradition  and  the  legacy  of  the  past. 

In  particular,  in  this  matter  of  translation, 
it  is  a  very  immediate  and  practical  question 
whether  we  shall  endeavour  to  form  fresh 
formulas,  or  whether  we  shall  be  content  to 
reinterpret  those  which  have  come  down  to 
us.  This  is  indeed  a  question  too  immediate 
and  too  practical  to  be  here  considered.  The 
more  conservative  will  be  very  unwilling  to 
abandon  any  part  of  our  inheritance  of  creed. 
There  may  be  much  to  be  said  on  their  behalf. 
Yet  in  many  cases  this  leads  to  unreality,  to 
paltering  with  the  conscience.  The  more 
courageous  road  may  after  all  be  the  road  of 
safety.  Infallibility  no  more  resides  in  the 
accepted  formulae  of  any  church  than  in  a 
pope  or  a  sacred  book.  We  have  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  between  victorious  doctrine  and  true 
doctrine.  That  a  doctrine  was  in  some  past 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  195 

age  victorious  proves,  indeed,  that  it  had  some 
advantages  over  its  rivals.  And  if  we  believe 
in  the  Divine  control  of  history,  we  shall  believe 
that  usually  and  on  the  whole  the  advantage 
attaching  to  victorious  doctrine  was  that  it 
was  more  suited  to  what  was  best  in  Christi¬ 
anity  at  the  time.  Thus  victorious  doctrine 
must  always  carry  a  certain  prestige ;  and  for 
an  individual  to  reject  it  on  merely  personal 
and  subjective  grounds  would  seem  to  be 
presumptuous.  But  again,  the  defeated 
doctrine  may  have  lost  the  day  because  it 
appealed  to  too  high  a  standard  in  man.  And 
again,  a  doctrine  suited  to  its  own  age  may 
be  quite  unfitted  for  another.  I  do  not  mean 
merely  in  its  expression — that  will,  of  course, 
be  soon  out  of  date — but  in  its  intellectual 
aspects  and  assumptions.  Thus,  though  there 
is  a  certain  presumption  in  favour  of  successful 
doctrine,  there  is  no  infallibility  about  it.  The 
boasted  test,  quod  semper ,  quod  ubique ,  quod 
ab  omnibus ,  is  worthless,  because  there  is  no 
doctrine  which  will  stand  the  test.  It  is 


196  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

obvious  enough  that  what  is  accepted  by  all 
cannot  be  denied  by  any. 

True  doctrine  seems  to  be  definable  as  that 
which  accords  with  the  essential  facts  of  man’s 
spiritual  surroundings  in  relation  to  his  nature. 
Thus  it  seems  that  no  statement  of  doctrine 
can  be  true  save  generally,  or  in  the  spirit,  for 
no  formula,  no  words,  can  permanently  embody 
it.  If  such  doctrine  is  expressed  reasonably 
and  in  full  accordance  with  the  intellectual 
conditions  of  a  particular  age,  it  is  true  for 
that  age,  even  in  its  words ;  but  the  truth  is 
after  all  not  to  be  taken  too  literally.  If  even 
a  truly  formulated  true  doctrine  be  taken  as  if 
it  were  an  axiom  in  Euclid  or  a  formula  in 
logic  it  cannot  endure  the  test.  At  best  man 
can  but  adumbrate  in  words  any  Divine  idea ; 
he  cannot  enclose  it  in  words. 

Perhaps  the  clearest  of  the  lessons  to  be 
derived  from  our  brief  and  slight  examination 
of  doctrine  is  the  need  of  tolerance  and  charity. 
Especially  in  an  age  of  change  and  transition 
like  ours  the  chances  of  going  wrong  in  the 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  197 

expression  of  doctrine  for  anyone  who  is  not 
content  with  current  formulae  are  almost 
infinite,  and  the  hope  of  being  wholly  right 
is  very  slight.  Anyone  who  is  determined 
that  he  has  religious  truth  enclosed  in  a  set  of 
formulae,  and  that  all  who  differ  from  him  are 
mistaken,  becomes  a  sort  of  monomaniac.  It 
has  been  well  said  that  the  community  which 
tries  to  make  itself  the  exclusive  depository  of 
truth  only  succeeds  in  cutting  itself  off  from 
the  real  Catholic  Church.  Let  us  hold  our 
beliefs  as  strongly  as  we  can,  but  let  us  not 
confuse  our  beliefs,  which  are  limited,  with 
truth  and  reality,  which  are  infinite. 

I  think  that  no  art  is  more  useful  to  a 
Christian  of  this  day  than  the  art  of  mental 
translation,  of  transposing  religious  utterances 
from  one  key  to  another.  No  man  who  has 
given  careful  personal  thought  to  religious 
questions  can  attend  any  religious  service,  in 
an  Anglican  church  or  elsewhere,  without 
hearing  some  things  of  which  he  does  not 
approve.  It  might  be  well  in  such  a  case, 


198  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

instead  of  encouraging  the  spirit  of  hostility, 
to  stimulate  that  of  charity.  Very  often  one 
may  find  that  an  assertion  which  offends  one 
is  after  all  only  a  clumsy  translation  of  a  fine 
spiritual  aspiration  or  a  real  experience  of  the 
soul.  The  formula,  whether  in  the  prayer- 
book,  the  hymn,  or  the  sermon,  may  after  all 
only  show  that  the  writer  had  a  different  sort 
of  education  from  the  hearer. 

In  the  Church  of  Corinth  there  was  much 
speaking  in  unknown  tongues,  and  St  Paul 
suggests  that,  when  this  was  the  case,  someone 
should  interpret  in  Greek.  In  our  churches 
many  unknown  tongues  are  spoken — the 
language  of  Neo-Platonic  philosophy,  the 
language  of  Jewish  Messianic  hope,  the 
language,  it  may  be,  of  dim  and  primitive  be¬ 
liefs  which  were  hoary  in  the  days  of  Plato 
and  of  Isaiah.  Should  we  not  at  least  make 
an  attempt  to  interpret  ?  The  strain  put  upon 
us  by  the  excessive  conservatism,  the  religious 
timidity,  of  the  English  Church  ought  to  be 
diminished.  If  every  man  is  to  interpret  for 


Translation  of  Christian  Doctrine  199 

himself,  the  great  majority  will  fail  to  interpret 
intelligibly.  That  there  are  great  difficulties 
in  the  way  no  one  can  doubt.  But  at  least 
the  hope  of  in  some  degree  restating  Christian 
doctrine  is  one  which  every  Christian  is  bound 
to  cherish  ;  and  towards  the  fulfilment  of  that 
hope  he  is  bound  to  struggle  as  opportunity 
may  be  given  him.  Nor  need  we  take  a 
despairing  tone  in  the  matter.  The  leaven  is 
working  all  around  us.  Those  who  are  past 
middle  age  cannot  fail  to  have  noticed  that  a 
movement  in  the  direction  of  greater  freedom 
of  thought  and  word  is  slowly  working  in  all 
the  churches — working  for  good,  and,  alas,  in 
some  directions  inevitably  for  evil.  If  we  look 
behind  us  we  notice  many  partially  successful 
attempts  at  the  restatement  of  Christian 
doctrine,  and  we  may  hope  that  by  degrees,  by 
the  additions  of  many  contributors,  perhaps 
more  often  indirect  than  direct,  the  work  will 
be  brought  to  a  worthy  consummation. 


VI 


THE  BASIS  OF  CHRISTIAN 
DOCTRINE 

It  is  generally  allowed  by  liberal  Churchmen 
that  at  the  present  time  there  is  great  need 
of  some  reconstruction  of  doctrine,  if  doctrine 
is  to  occupy  in  the  Christianity  of  the  future 
a  place  of  any  importance.  But  most  of 
them  seem  to  shrink  from  the  attempt  at 
such  reconstruction.  A  very  able  and  liberal 
theologian  writes  :  44  Those  who  speak  most  of 
the  re-formulation  of  the  Faith  do  not  appear 
to  me  to  be  the  men  who  know  the  past.” 
Any  effort  in  this  direction  meets  with  severe 
critics  and  few  friends.  And,  what  is  far 
worse,  it  is  almost  sure  to  be  exceedingly 

partial  and  incomplete.  Doctrine  has  been 

200 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  201 


in  the  past  evolved  rather  by  the  life  of  the 
Church  than  by  the  quiet  meditations  of 
individuals,  and  any  satisfactory  formulation 
of  it  is  likely  to  come  from  those  who  have 
acquired  a  right  to  express  the  voice  of  the 
Church. 


1 

Let  me  begin  a  brief  discussion  of  the  basis 
of  doctrine  by  citing  a  definition  of  it  by  one 
of  the  greatest  of  modern  Churchmen,  Dr 
Westcott.1 

“  Christian  doctrine  is  at  any  time  the 
present  intellectual  appreciation  of  certain 
actual  events.  It  is  not  based  upon  a 
mythology  which  must  fade  away  in  the 
fuller  light.  It  is  not  bound  up  with  a 
philosophy  which  answers  to  a  special  stage 
in  the  progress  of  thought.  It  is  an  attempt 
to  seize  the  meaning  of  occurrences  which 
are  part  of  the  history  of  mankind.” 

While  I  should  in  a  general  way  accept 
1  Lessons  from  Work ,  p.  77. 


202  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

this  statement,  it  seems  to  me  by  no  means 
free  from  ambiguity.  Are  the  events  which 
lie  at  the  roots  of  doctrine  the  facts  recorded 
in  the  Gospels  or  the  facts  of  the  continuous 
Christian  life  ?  Probably  Dr  Westcott  would 
include  both.  But  the  history  contained  in 
the  Gospels,  though  of  course  in  a  less  degree 
than  Old  Testament  history,  is  certainly 
mixed  with  what  may  in  a  sense  be  called 
mythology.  A  permanent  basis  for  doctrine 
can  only  be  found  in  historic  facts  the 
evidence  for  which  is  beyond  question,  the 
realities  of  the  permanent  life  of  the  spirit. 
And  again,  in  maintaining  that  doctrine  must 
not  be  made  dependent  upon  particular 
schemes  of  philosophy,  Dr  Westcott  doubtless 
states  a  truth.  Yet  the  actual  form  taken 
by  doctrines  in  various  ages  must  needs  be 
greatly  influenced  by  the  current  philosophic 
views.  It  is  only  the  spirit  or  essence  of 
them  which  is  permanent.  Y et,  taken  broadly, 
Dr  Westcott’s  statement  is  true.  The  first 
and  most  fundamental  point  in  all  re-formula- 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  203 

tion  of  doctrine  seems  to  be  that  it  must 
take  its  start  less  from  historic  record,  and 
less  from  metaphysical  principle,  than  from 
experience. 

In  saying  that  doctrine  cannot  be  primarily 
based  on  historic  record,  I  do  not,  of  course, 
mean  that  it  is  cut  loose  from  the  past,  or  that 
the  history  of  religion  is  to  us  unimportant. 
On  the  contrary,  as  I  shall  presently  insist, 
history  must  play  an  enormous  part  in  any 
rational  form  of  doctrine.  To  us  history  must 
be  of  infinitely  more  account  than  it  could 
possibly  be  to  those  who  were  unacquainted 
with  historic  method  and  did  not  discern 
between  fact  and  fable.  To  no  mind  trained 
in  modern  methods  can  any  fact,  whether  of 
the  present  or  the  past,  be  indifferent  or 
unmeaning.  Yet  to  proceed  in  the  time- 
honoured  manner,  to  take  the  crude  fact  or 
supposed  fact  of  the  Christian  origins,  and 
to  build  it  into  a  structure  of  doctrine,  is 
an  illegitimate  proceeding.  It  is  illegitimate 
for  two  valid  reasons.  Firstly,  because  the 


204  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

actual  objective  fact  desiderated  is  seldom  or 
never  to  be  had.  Modern  critical  methods 
have  dispelled  the  notion  that  it  is  possible 
in  ancient  history  to  ascertain  the  simple 
objective  fact,  save  in  certain  cases.  We  can 
only  reach  probability,  not  certainty ;  we  can 
discover  what  was  believed  to  have  taken 
place  rather  than  what  actually  took  place. 
And  secondly,  even  if  we  could  draw  up  a  list 
of  objective  facts  in  religious  history,  they 
would  be  found  to  be  in  themselves  colourless. 
They  would  contain  no  doctrine :  doctrine 
would  have  to  be  added  to  them  by  imagina¬ 
tion  and  belief.  This  is  clear  if  we  take  the 
simplest  of  examples.  That  Jesus  Christ  died 
on  the  cross  may  fairly  be  considered,  in  spite 
of  difficulties  raised  by  a  few  objectors,  as  a 
definite  fact  of  history.  This  fact  may  serve 
as  an  attachment  to  which  doctrine  may 
cling ;  but  in  itself  it  involves  no  doctrine. 
“  Crucified  under  Pontius  Pilate  ” :  to  this 
Tacitus  would  subscribe  as  readily  as  St  Paul. 
But  the  fact  only  becomes  related  to  doctrine 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  205 

when  we  add  to  it  what  is  not  mere  fact  of 
history :  “  Crucified  for  us  under  Pontius 
Pilate.”  There  indeed  we  have  doctrine  ;  and 
the  doctrine  conveyed  in  the  words  “for  us” 
is  not  merely  detachable  from  the  fact,  but 
it  has  been  so  detached  by  thousands  of 
Christians,  who  have  based  it  rather  on 
spiritual  experience  than  on  historic  evidence 
of  the  nature  of  which  they  have  been 
ignorant. 

Nothing,  indeed,  endures  as  permanent 
foundation  for  doctrinal  construction  save 
observation  and  experience.  And  the  realm 
of  observation  may  be  readily  divided  into 
three  main  provinces :  the  physical  world, 
the  world  of  consciousness,  and  the  world  of 
history.  In  some  matters,  more  especially  as 
regards  the  being  and  attributes  of  the 
Creator,  appeal  has  from  antiquity  been  made 
to  the  testimony  of  the  works  which  He  has 
created.  And  in  modified  ways  such  appeal 
still  lies  open  to  us,  is  indeed  inevitable  in  the 
case  of  every  man  of  science  who  has  imagina- 


2 06  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

tion  and  ideality.  The  Founder  of  Christi¬ 
anity  was  very  fond  of  appealing  to  processes 
and  phenomena  of  the  visible  world  as  being  a 
mirror  in  which  we  may  trace  the  action  and 
the  love  of  the  F ather  in  heaven ;  and  the 
example  which  He  set  is  one  especially 
attractive  to  an  age  so  bent  as  ours  towards 
the  pursuit  of  physical  and  biological  studies. 
Yet,  after  all,  the  visible  world  can  throw 
but  little  light  on  the  deeper  phases  of 
religion,  can  but  furnish  us  with  hints  and 
suggestions.  Far  more  important,  with  a 
view  to  the  formulation  of  doctrine,  is  that 
psychology  which  studies  the  mind  and  heart 
of  man.  It  is  here  that  we  most  completely 
differ  from  the  early  founders  of  the  Christian 
religion.  The  world  of  sense  lay  open  to 
them,  though  they  did  not  see  so  far  beneath 
its  surface  as  we.  But  in  the  ancient  world  it 
was  men  in  cities  and  communities  rather  than 
the  individual  that  counted :  man  had  scarcely 
learned  to  regard  himself  as  a  microcosm  in 
many  ways  reacting  against  the  world,  as  not 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  207 

merely  contained  in  that  world  but  in  turn 
containing  it.  For  good  or  for  evil,  mankind 
has  become  self-conscious.  What  the  ancients 
did  by  an  inner  impulse  we  do  of  set  purpose  ; 
what  they  knew  confusedly  in  regard  to 
human  nature  we  know  methodically,  or  at 
least  we  are  studying  by  method.  To  use  a 
bold  phrase,  God  is  committing  to  man  more 
and  more  every  year  the  rule  of  the  world  and 
the  guidance  of  society ;  and  man  is  obliged 
to  try  to  discover  what  are  the  limits  of  his 
own  powers  and  what  the  laws  of  his  own 
development. 

In  introspective  psychology  there  inhere 
very  great  dangers.  It  cannot  be  completely 
successful ;  but  there  are  methods  by  which 
the  weaknesses  which  cannot  be  wholly  re¬ 
moved  from  it  may  be  lessened.  I  speak  at 
present  of  psychology  in  relation  to  religion, 
though  the  same  observations  would  apply 
to  other  aspects  of  psychology.  Religious 
psychology,  then,  may  be  extended  in  scope 
and  made  far  safer  in  its  results  if  with  the 


208  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

analytic  method  we  combine  those  of  anthrop¬ 
ology  and  of  history.  W e  have  to  correct 
or  to  confirm  the  psychologic  views  drawn 
from  the  phenomena  of  our  own  Church  or 
our  own  country  by  extending  our  observa¬ 
tion  to  the  lands  where  other  religions  prevail. 
And  we  have  to  draw  largely  upon  the 
reservoirs  of  spiritual  experience  stored  up  in 
the  memoirs  and  the  writings  of  persons  of 
unusual  insight  and  genius  in  matters  of 
religion.  Above  all,  we  have  the  history  of 
the  Christian  Church,  from  the  day  when  the 
Apostles  were  called  to  become  fishers  of  men, 
down  to  our  own  days.  That  history  is  no 
random  collocation  of  events,  but  an  orderly 
development ;  though  sometimes,  it  must  be 
confessed,  periods  of  materialism  and  retro¬ 
gression  intervene  between  the  brighter 
patches.  But  the  spirit  of  the  Founder  has 
never  wholly  deserted  the  society.  A 
hundred  times  the  flame  of  the  spiritual  life 
has  burned  low,  but  it  has  always  revived. 
Thus,  to  every  Christian,  the  history  of 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  209 

Christianity  becomes  a  vast  storehouse  of 
truth  and  of  wisdom,  mingled,  of  course,  with 
baser  elements.  As  Plato  in  his  Republic 
tried  to  make  clear  the  nature  of  man  by 
studying  the  working  of  an  ideal  society,  so 
in  the  history  of  the  Church  the  main  facts 
of  the  spiritual  life  are  set  out  on  a  nobler 
scale  and  with  clearer  lessons  for  us  all. 
Particular  facts  in  the  history  of  the  Church 
may  be  very  doubtful ;  their  acceptance  or 
rejection  depends  upon  evidence  ;  but  about 
the  main  lines  and  tendencies  of  that  history 
we  can  safely  assure  ourselves. 


11 

It  appears  to  me  that  the  whole  complexion 

of  doctrine  in  our  days  must  be  essentially 

psychologic,  must  take  its  start  from  facts  of 

human  nature.  Doctrine  consists  mainly  of 

three  sections :  the  doctrine  of  God,  or 

Theology  proper  ;  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  or 

Christology  ;  the  doctrine  of  man,  or  Soteri- 

14 


210  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

ology.  Now  a  system  of  doctrine  which  starts 
from  the  records  of  history  will  put  Christ- 
ology  in  the  first  place  ;  a  system  of  doctrine 
which  starts  from  the  facts  of  the  visible 
world  will  put  Theology  in  the  first  place ; 
a  system  of  doctrine  which  starts  from  the 
facts  of  human  nature  and  man  as  a  religious 
being  will  put  Soteriology  in  the  first  place. 
These  three  species  of  doctrine  have  each  in 
turn  held  supremacy  in  the  Christian  Church, 
none  of  them  ever  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
others.  To  speak  quite  roughly  and  generally, 
Christology  mainly  occupied  the  Christian 
society,  and  particularly  the  Greek  section  of 
it,  down  to  the  fourth  century.  Soteriology 
was  later  in  development,  and  belonged  mainly 
to  the  Western  branch  of  the  Church,  and  was 
again  dominant  at  the  time  of  the  Reforma¬ 
tion.  Theology  proper  has  usually  been  less 
prominent ;  but  generally  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  for  example,  it  overshadowed  the 
other  species  of  doctrine. 

Probably,  under  modern  conditions,  Soteri- 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  2 1 1 


ology  must  hold  the  pre-eminence.  I  am  not 
sure  that  if  we  look  round  us  we  should  at 
once  feel  this  to  be  the  case.  The  Church,  at 
all  events  in  our  country,  is  far  more  fully 
occupied  with  attention  to  the  temporal  and 
social  needs  of  men  than  with  their  spiritual 
health.  This  is,  however,  a  temporary  secular¬ 
isation  of  religion  ;  and  the  more  enthusiastic 
forces  of  Christianity,  such  as  the  Methodists, 
certainly  concern  themselves  largely  with 
matters  of  Soteriology.  However  that  be, 
it  seems  clear  that  the  spiritual  nature  of 
man  will  be  the  primary  subject  of  religious 
doctrine  in  the  century  which  has  begun. 

It  is  our  business,  in  the  broader,  whiter 
light  which  floods  the  twentieth  century, 
clearly  to  discern,  and  methodically  to 
arrange,  elements  of  life  which  by  our 
ancestors  were  rather  felt  than  known,  but 
which  often  lie  deep,  near  the  very  roots  of 
our  being.  In  order  that  we  may  do  this 
we  must  needs  use  critical  methods  ;  but  we 
must  beware  of  thinking  that  criticism  neces- 


212  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

* 

sarily  leads  to  negation.  There  is  a  ration¬ 
alist  criticism  which  examines  everything  from 
the  lofty  height  of  its  own  conceit,  rejecting 
all  that  does  not  happen  to  have  an  obvious 
reason  and  an  immediate  justification.  And 
there  is  a  scientific  or  historic  criticism 
which  is  full  of  caution  and  of  reverence, 
which  recognises  that  for  all  phenomena 
which  have  appeared  in  the  world  there 
must  be  a  justification  of  some  sort,  and  that 
what  has  been  nobly  thought  and  strongly 
felt  in  the  past  is  almost  sure  to  have  roots 
going  down  to  what  is  best  and  most  durable 
in  man. 

One  may  cite  a  recent  example.  Few  of 
the  superstitions  of  the  Middle  Ages  seem 
to  us  more  degrading,  few  more  indefensible, 
than  those  connected  with  the  earnest  desire 
to  possess  the  actual  bodies  of  saints  and 
martyrs.  Undoubtedly  this  desire  has  led 
to  deeds  which  cannot  but  be  condemned, 
and  to  gross  materialism  in  religion.  Yet 
recently,  when  the  body  of  Mr  Rhodes  was 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  213 

laid  to  rest  among  the  rocks  of  the  Matoppo 
Hills,  in  the  midst  of  the  land  which  he 
really  cared  for,  none  could  fail  to  feel 
that  the  interment,  though  of  a  dead  and 
decaying  body,  had  real  meaning,  and  that 
the  dead  hand  of  the  great  statesman  would 
really  guard  the  Matoppo  Hills.  For  no 
view  of  human  nature  could  be  more  faulty 
or  more  shallow  than  the  view  which  regards 
it  as  swayed  only  by  material  advantages, 
and  moving  only  on  the  lines  of  reason. 
Feeling,  sentiment,  imagination,  the  ghosts 
of  dead  beliefs,  sway  us  often  far  more  than 
the  things  which  can  be  seen  and  measured. 

In  the  eighteenth  century  the  theistic 
rationalism  of  writers  like  Gibbon  and 
Voltaire  rejected  with  contempt  what  they 
regarded  as  the  exploded  superstitions  of 
popular  Christianity.  But  before  long  the 
progress  of  philosophy  revealed  the  fact  that 
the  doctrines  which  refined  theism  guarded 
as  based  on  reason  really  rested  on  a  base 
hardly  more  solid  than  that  which  upheld 


214  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  doctrines  which  they  scouted  as  irrational. 
In  these  days  any  man  who  wishes  to  pro¬ 
ceed  reasonably  moves  with  infinitely  more 
caution,  and  knows  better  than  to  set  aside 
ancient  beliefs  merely  on  subjective  or  ration¬ 
alistic  grounds. 

If  I  venture  to  speak  briefly  of  the  doctrines 
of  soteriology  as  based  on  fact,  I  would  do 
so  with  all  humility,  as  one  merely  trying  to 
arrange  facts  in  a  particular  light. 

The  great  and  essential  realities  which  lie 
at  the  roots  of  all  soteriologic  doctrines  are 
three.  First,  that  man  has  a  natural  sense  of 
sin,  which  may  be  in  individuals  stronger  or 
weaker,  but  which  tends  to  be  very  keen  in 
those  who  are  most  alive  to  spiritual  realities. 
Second,  that  the  load  of  sin  can  only  be 
removed  by  a  change  of  heart — the  change 
which  by  Christians  is  commonly  called  con¬ 
version,  but  which  may  be  either  sudden  or 
gradual.  Third,  that  no  man  by  his  own 
strivings  can  bring  about  this  change,  but 
that  it  is  wrought  in  him,  not  in  defiance  of 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  215 

his  own  will,  but  by  a  kind  of  absorption  of 
it  by  a  higher  Power. 

I  am  aware  that  there  are  among  us  some 
writers  who  regard  these  primary  facts  as  not 
fact,  but  fancy.  I  cannot  at  present  attempt 
to  confute  them.  I  can  but  refer  them  to 
statistics  like  those  of  Mr  Starbuck,  or  to 
James’s  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience. 
To  prove  the  reality  of  spiritual  fact  is  in¬ 
deed  almost  as  difficult  a  task  as  to  prove 
to  a  blind  man  that  the  material  world  is 
full  of  colour.  Victor  Hugo  has  observed 
that  some  men  deny  the  infinite ;  some,  too, 
deny  the  sun,  they  are  the  blind.  When 
we  find  certain  moral  conditions  existing  in  a 
rudimentary  form  among  savages,  clearly  seen 
in  civilised  nations,  strongly  marked  in  the 
noblest  of  human  beings  who  have  ever 
lived,  I  do  not  think  that  we  need  pause  to 
prove  that  they  are  natural  to  man  as  man. 

If  this  brief  sketch  of  the  root-facts  of  the 
religious  life  be  at  all  accurate,  we  shall  see 
that  some  of  the  great  doctrines  of  Christian 


216  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

soteriology  have  profound  roots  in  human 
nature.  They  may  be  revealed  doctrine — in¬ 
deed,  all  true  doctrine  is  revealed — but  they 
can  be  justified  in  their  essence  by  an  appeal 
to  fact.  I  say  in  their  essence,  because  as 
they  stand  in  our  creeds  and  confessions  and 
articles  of  religion  they  are  mixed  up  with  a 
great  deal  of  mythic  history  and  abandoned 
philosophy.  The  ninth,  tenth,  and  eleventh 
Articles  of  the  Prayer  Book  might  be  regarded 
almost  as  an  abstract  of  what  I  have  said. 
But  they  add  a  setting  some  parts  of  which 
are  disputable.  They  assume  that  Adam  was 
historic,  and  the  progenitor  of  mankind :  that 
is  a  Jewish  element.  They  assume  that  the 
phronema  sai^kos,  as  the  Article  puts  it,  is 
opposed  to  the  Divine  influence,  which  is  an 
element  mainly  taken  from  the  mystic  religion 
of  Greece.  And  further,  they  give  to  the 
teaching  a  Christian  form,  holding  that  the 
grace  of  God  is  given  to  men  in  consequence 
of  the  obedience  and  death  of  the  Founder  of 
Christianity.  No  doubt  in  the  past  this 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  217 

essentially  Christian  element  has  been  in¬ 
separable  from  the  doctrine  of  Divine  grace, 
and  to  the  great  mass  of  Christians  is  still 
inseparable  from  it.  Yet  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  separation  is,  from  the  logical  and 
psychological  view,  possible,  whether  or  not  it 
be  possible  in  the  practical  life  of  the  Church. 
Into  these  matters  I  cannot  at  present  go 
further :  they  would  involve  Christologic 
discussions. 

Let  us  pass  to  a  doctrine  taught  in  another 
Article  of  the  Church,  that  of  Election.  This 
teaching  is  somewhat  archaic  in  form,  and 
probably  few  even  of  those  who  enter  the 
ministry  really  accept  it.  But  the  noteworthy 
thing  about  it  is  that  it  has  but  a  veneer  of 
Christianity.  The  Article  speaks  of  election 
in  Christ,  but  the  phrase  does  not  go  deep. 
The  doctrine  as  taught  by  St  Paul  is  taken 
straight,  metaphors  and  all,  from  the  writings 
of  Jeremiah.  It  is  Jewish  in  origin,  but  it  has 
parallels  among  all  peoples.  The  notion  of 
Divine  predestination  plays  a  very  important 


2 1 8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

part  in  the  theology  of  Islam.  Belief  in  fate 
in  Greece  sometimes  quite  overshadowed  the 
belief  in  the  gods.  And  very  many  of  the  men 
who  have  made  the  greatest  name  in  the  world 
— Cassar,  Napoleon,  Cromwell,  or,  to  come 
to  our  own  times,  Napoleon  III.,  Bismarck, 
Gordon,  Rhodes — have  accepted  in  some  form 
the  doctrine  of  destiny  or  predestination. 

Of  course  the  doctrine  in  passing  through 
the  brain  of  St  Paul  into  Christianity  took 
definite  colour  and  form.  He  teaches  not 
merely  that  men  are  destined  to  success  and 
failure,  to  happiness  and  misery,  in  this 
world,  but  that  eternal  happiness  is  only  for 
those  who  are  chosen  in  the  eternal  purpose 
of  God.  At  least  this  is  the  belief  expressed 
in  some  passages  in  the  Pauline  letters.  But 
it  does  not  dwell  in  the  Apostle’s  mind,  or 
really  tincture  his  theology.  He  never  tells 
his  converts  that  it  is  useless  for  them  to 
attempt  to  lay  hold  upon  life  unless  they  are 
thereto  ordained.  It  is  at  bottom  only  an 
intense  conviction  that  he  himself  was  called 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  219 

and  preordained  by  Divine  purpose  for  certain 
ends.  And  what  he  feels  in  his  own  case  he 
feels  bound  to  assume  as  a  general  experience. 

We  cannot  hesitate  to  say  that  though  the 
doctrine  of  predestination  has  often  in  the 
world  assumed  unlovely  and  unworthy  forms, 
though  it  has  been  to  sensitive  souls  the 
cause  of  unmeasured  pain  and  anguish,  yet 
at  bottom  it  is  based  upon  experience  and 
reality.  This  doctrine,  in  varied  forms,  is  an 
attempt,  or  a  series  of  attempts,  to  explain 
what  is  a  fact  of  vast  import  and  sublime 
majesty — that  the  destinies  of  men  are 
arranged  and  swayed  by  a  Power  mighty 
beyond  our  dreams  and  wise  beyond  our 
imagination,  who  does  place  them  as  chessmen 
are  placed  on  a  board,  and  makes  it  impossible 
for  them  to  move  save  in  certain  directions. 

The  complementary  doctrine,  that  of  repro  ¬ 
bation,  I  take  to  be  the  result  of  applying 
logic  where  logic  is  powerless.  St  Paul  did 
not  hold  the  view  that  the  non-elect  were 
destined  to  endless  punishment ;  he  only 


220  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

thought  that  such  might  fail  to  grasp  the 
life  in  Christ  and  so  altogether  lose  the  future 
life,  which  belonged  only  to  Christians.  But 
when,  later  on,  it  was  believed  that  the  dead 
were  divided  into  two  rigid  camps  of  the 
saved  and  the  lost,  then  the  theologians  who 
held  the  doctrine  of  election  were  driven  to 
believe  also  in  the  doctrine  of  final  reproba¬ 
tion.  For  us,  the  great  day  of  judgment,  that 
nightmare  of  the  slumber  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
has  lost  its  definite  and  dramatic  character. 
We  reject  cataclysmic  views,  and  hold  that 
the  future  life  must  have  close  relations  with 
the  life  of  the  present.  Thus  for  us  any 
doctrine  of  destiny  or  election  must  have 
quite  a  different  setting  from  that  of 
Augustine  and  Calvin.  We  shall  not  accept 
the  analogy  of  the  clay  and  the  potter,  because 
a  vessel  of  clay  is  dead,  and  we  are  alive.  But 
we  may  still  believe  that  to  every  man  at  birth 
there  is  assigned  a  task,  that  every  life  has  an 
ideal  aspect  interpenetrating  its  visible  mani¬ 
festations.  And  we  may  believe  that  accord- 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  221 


ing]y  as  each  of  us  does  the  allotted  task,  and 
succeeds  in  making  the  actual  life  resemble 
the  ideal  life,  in  that  degree  each  of  us  is 
partaker  of  salvation  ;  but  yet,  after  all,  it  is 
not  we  that  can  attain  the  ideal,  but  the 
ideal  which  works  itself  out  in  us,  shining 
in  our  darkness,  strengthening  our  feeble 
wills,  and  heating  our  languid  desires.  This 
is,  in  reality,  a  modern  transcript  of  the  old 
doctrine  of  election. 


hi 

We  pass  next  from  the  soteriologic  or 
human  side  of  doctrine  to  the  doctrine  of  God, 
or  Theology  proper. 

I  think  it  could  not  be  denied  by  any 
thinking  man  that  the  view  of  God  held 
by  any  religiously  minded  person  in  our 
days  is  in  some  ways  vastly  more  lofty  and 
severe  than  any  views  which  were  possible 
to  the  early  Christians.  On  some  sides — 
those  relating  to  feeling  and  conduct — it  may 
be  that  the  last  words  as  to  the  Divine  nature 


2  22  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

were  uttered  in  Palestine  nineteen  hundred 
years  ago.  The  nature  of  conduct  and  of 
feeling,  which  is  inchoate  or  truncated  con¬ 
duct,  does  not  greatly  vary  from  age  to  age. 
But  on  the  intellectual  side  we  have  made 
enormous  progress.  Those  two  artificial 
senses,  the  telescope  and  the  microscope, 
have  entirely  changed  our  notion  of  creation, 
by  introducing  us  to  the  immeasurably  vast 
and  the  inconceivably  minute.  The  world 
has  ceased  to  be  the  centre  of  the  visible 
universe,  and  now  seems  to  us,  with  all  its 
glory  and  splendour,  almost  like  a  mote  in 
the  sunbeam.  Man  on  his  physical  side, 
while  a  marvellous  production,  is  yet  beyond 
expression  weak  and  limited.  Various  recent 
writers  have  set  forth,  perhaps  none  more 
ably  than  the  author  of  Natural  Religion , 
the  view  of  God  as  it  slowly  impresses  itself 
upon  the  pious  worker  in  the  field  of  natural 
science.  He  becomes  a  severe,  almost  a 
Puritan,  monotheist.  “If  we  will  look  at 
things  and  not  merely  at  words,  we  shall 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  223 

soon  see  that  the  scientific  man  has  a 
theology  and  a  God :  a  most  impressive 
theology,  a  most  awful  and  glorious  God.  I 
say  that  man  believes  in  a  God  who  feels 
himself  in  the  presence  of  a  Power  which  is 
not  himself  and  is  immeasurably  above  him¬ 
self  :  a  Power  in  the  contemplation  of  which 
he  is  absorbed,  in  the  knowledge  of  which 
he  finds  safety  and  happiness.” 

Thus  wrote  Professor  Seeley.  But  while 
we  are  all  in  some  degree  swayed  by  the 
severe  theism  of  the  astronomer  and  the 
chemist,  we  must  not  forget  that  the  true 
revelation  of  God  must  always  be  to  the 
inward  rather  than  to  the  outward  eye. 
Nature  can  never  by  herself  give  us  a  full 
or  final  revelation  of  the  Creator.  The  poets 
of  nature,  such  as  Wordsworth  and  Ruskin, 
throw  over  nature  an  imaginative  haze  of  their 
own.  Many  of  those  who  closely  study  evolu¬ 
tion  in  the  world  see  in  it  the  working  of 
something  which,  to  compare  great  things  with 
small,  may  be  likened  to  human  choice  and 


224  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

purpose.  But  even  the  poet  of  nature  and 
the  reader  of  design  in  the  world  would  not 
look  among  things  visible  for  traces  of  the 
Divine  unless  they  had  already  found  such 
traces  in  their  own  hearts  and  lives.  The  final 
witness  to  God  will  always  be  found  in  the 
words  of  Augustine :  “  Thou  madest  us  for 
Thyself,  and  our  heart  is  restless  till  it  find 
rest  in  Thee.”  Reading  these  words,  one  may 
imagine  that  Augustine  had  risen  above  the 
local  and  temporal  in  religion  to  the  essential 
truth  of  it.  Yet  Augustine,  in  another  place, 
gives  a  version  of  the  same  aspiration  which 
may  serve  to  show  that  we  have  moved  since 
his  day.  “  Our  rational  nature,”  he  writes,  “  is 
so  great  and  good,  that  there  is  no  good  where¬ 
in  we  can  be  happy  save  God.” 

What  a  bathos  we  have  in  these  words. 
And  they  serve  to  emphasise  the  fact  that  it 
is  not  only  by  our  profounder  knowledge  of 
nature  that  our  idea  of  God  has  been  lifted  up. 
The  fuller  and  deeper  tide  of  human  life  which 
has  flowed  since  the  world  emerged  from 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  225 

the  swaddling-bands  of  the  Middle  Ages  has 
not  only  given  us  truer  notions  as  to  human 
nature  and  its  possibilities,  but  also  has  raised 
and  refined  our  ideas  of  Him  in  whose  image 
man  was  made.  The  teaching  about  God 
uttered  by  Jesus  and  by  some  of  his  followers, 
who  draw  their  words  straight  from  the  ex¬ 
periences  of  the  spiritual  life,  are  beyond 
criticism.  And  the  great  mystics  who  have 
from  time  to  time  arisen  speak  to  all  the  ages. 
But  when  we  come  to  those  who  have  formu¬ 
lated  doctrine,  we  shall  find  that  most  views 
of  the  Divine  nature  which  come  down  to  us 
from  the  ancient  world,  and  even  from  the 
Middle  Ages,  are  coloured  by  two  false  ways 
of  thinking.  First,  it  was  the  inevitable 
tendency  of  all  who  had  been  trained  in  the 
Platonic  philosophy,  that  is  to  say,  of  most 
educated  people,  to  think  of  God  as  revealed 
to  reason  rather  than  to  will  and  to  love. 
They  tended  to  regard  the  Deity  as  the  sum 
of  thought,  to  be  known  only  through  con¬ 
templation  and  meditation.  And  second,  they 

15 


226  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

were  under  the  sway  of  that  subtle  essence  of 
the  Hellenic  spirit,  Greek  rhetoric,  with  its 
love  of  balance  and  contrast,  of  measure  and 
counter-measure.  All  literary  style,  from  the 
days  of  Thucydides  to  almost  our  own  times, 
whether  in  history  or  philosophy,  art  or  poetry, 
has  been  in  a  degree  rhetorical ;  and  the  rhe¬ 
torical  spirit  is  absolutely  and  irreconcilably 
opposed  to  the  spirit  of  science.  Rationalism 
and  rhetoric  have  been  the  two  chains  where¬ 
with  the  Church  has  been  bound  from  almost 
the  first,  and  from  which  she  is  only  beginning 
to  wish  to  be  loosed. 

I  would  not  be  misunderstood  as  saying 
that  it  was  a  fault  in  the  Church  to  accept 
these  limitations.  Here  I  think  some  of 
those  writers  with  whom  I  have  the  closest 
sympathy,  both  in  England  and  in  Germany, 
have  been  unjust — men  such  as  Harnack  and 
Edwin  Hatch  and  Matthew  Arnold.  As  a 
soul  cannot  work  in  the  world  unless  it  inhabit 
a  body,  as  the  wisest  of  men  cannot  speak 
without  using  the  words  of  some  particular 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  227 

language,  so  the  Church,  being  obliged  to  come 
to  terms  with  people  of  educated  intelligence, 
was  compelled  to  use  the  kind  of  speech  with 
which  they  were  familiar.  What  I  do  say  is, 
that  since  we  have  cast  away  the  limitations 
of  Greece  in  other  realms — in  physical  science, 
in  poetry,  in  psychology,  even  in  philosophy 
— we  must  be  prepared  to  reject  them  also  in 
theology,  or  our  theology  will  remain  dead 
among  living  studies.  Our  theology  must  be 
prepared  to  advance  and  to  aspire  until  it 
conforms  to  what  is  loftiest  and  most  severe 
in  the  suggestions  of  modern  science,  as  well  as 
to  the  highest  results  of  the  ideal  philosophy 
which  Plato  founded,  and  the  passionate 
aspirations  of  the  Hebrew  Psalmists  and  other 
great  religious  poets  of  the  past. 

On  the  third  great  branch  of  the  tree  of 
doctrine,  Christology,  I  clearly  cannot  enter 
at  the  end  of  a  paper  already  sufficiently 
long.  To  this  subject,  the  most  difficult 
and  dangerous  of  all,  I  devote  a  separate 
paper. 


228  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

In  conclusion,  I  wish  to  make  an  observation 
which  goes  to  the  root  of  all  doctrinal  con¬ 
struction.  Doctrine  has  relations  not  only  to 
the  facts  of  our  environment,  physical  and 
spiritual,  but  also  to  action  amid  those  facts. 
And  indeed  it  is  more  closely  related  to  action 
and  to  feeling,  which  is  inchoate  action,  than  to 
knowledge.  Thus,  although  a  critical  study 
of  history  is  a  necessary  preliminary  to  the 
formulation  of  doctrine,  and  though  religious 
psychology  is  a  corrective  constantly  applied 
to  doctrine,  yet  doctrine  itself  cannot  be 
reached  either  through  history  or  through 
psychology.  Doctrine  is  the  direct  intellectual 
embodiment  of  life,  and  no  corollary  from  any 
series  of  observed  facts.  The  soil  and  the 
climate  condition  the  growth  of  the  plant,  but 
they  do  not  create  the  plant,  nor  furnish  it  with 
that  inner  vitality  whereby  it  grows  amid  its 
surroundings  and  uses  what  surrounds  it  for 
its  own  purposes. 

Thus  we  reach  a  distinction — a  far-reaching 
and  essential  distinction — between  the  study  of 


The  Basis  of  Christian  Doctrine  229 

doctrine  and  the  belief  in  doctrine.  It  is  the 
same  distinction  as  exists  between  science  and 
art  in  all  their  phases,  between  the  study  of 
mechanics  and  the  construction  of  a  machine, 
between  the  study  of  painting  and  the  produc¬ 
tion  of  a  picture. 

Science  and  method  will  not  help  us  in  the 
choice  of  purposes  and  principles  of  life  ;  but 
when  we  have  formed  our  purposes  they  will 
help  us  to  attain  them.  The  knowledge  of 
religious  psychology  will  not  compel  us  to 
accept  this  or  that  doctrine ;  but  it  may  help 
us  to  ascertain  how  a  particular  principle  of 
religion  has  been  embodied  in  doctrine  in  the 
past.  And  it  may  even  show  us  how  this 
embodiment  must  be  changed  to  fit  it  to 
modern  intellectual  conditions  :  it  may  discern 
between  the  doctrinal  path  which  ends  in  a 
blank  wall  and  the  path  which  avoids  all 
insuperable  obstacles. 


VII 

THE  BASIS  OF  CHRISTOLOGY 

The  doctrine  of  Christ  is  at  once  the  most 
important  and  the  most  interesting  subject 
for  religious  consideration.  It  is  also  the 
most  difficult.  At  every  turn,  one  is  likely 
to  wound  the  sensitive  feelings  of  Christians. 
Caution  and  reticence  are  necessary ;  and  yet 
too  great  caution  may  also  be  a  snare,  and 
becomes  absurd  at  a  time  when  the  most 
immoral  and  abominable  doctrines  are  daily 
published  in  the  magazine  and  proclaimed  in 
the  market-place. 

When  the  two  carbons  of  an  electric  lamp 
are  placed  near  together  there  flashes  between 
them  an  arc  of  intense  light.  In  the  same 
way,  the  Christology  which  has  been  from  the 

230 


The  Basis  of  Christology  231 

first  the  light  of  the  Christian  intelligence 
seems  to  be  an  attempt  to  draw  together  and 
to  reconcile  two  sets  of  facts. 


1 

At  the  beginning  of  the  book  of  Acts  we 
have  a  speech  said  to  be  that  uttered  by  St 
Peter  on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  It  is,  of 
course,  quite  foreign  to  the  customs  of  writers 
of  history  at  that  time  to  give  verbatim  reports 
of  any  words  publicly  uttered.  That  custom 
is  indeed  of  very  modern  date,  and  connected 
with  the  existence  of  a  class  of  men  whose 
business  is  the  reporting  of  speeches.  The 
ancient  historian  gives  at  most  the  substance 
of  the  speech  uttered,  thrown  into  a  dramatic 
form  suitable  to  the  speaker.  Of  this  dramatic 
reproduction  Luke  is  a  great  master.  So  this 
speech  of  St  Peter,  whether  close  or  not  to 
historic  accuracy,  reproduces  in  a  striking  way 
the  point  of  view  of  the  Apostles  shortly  after 
the  crucifixion  of  their  Master.  The  speaker 


232  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

connects  the  time  before  with  that  after  the 
crucifixion  with  notable  simplicity.  “  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  a  man  approved  of  God  among  you 
by  miracles  and  wonders  and  signs,  ye  by 
wicked  hands  have  crucified  and  slain ;  whom 
God  hath  raised  up.  Therefore  let  all  the 
house  of  Israel  know  assuredly  that  God  hath 
made  that  same  Jesus,  whom  ye  have  crucified, 
both  Lord  and  Christ.”  This  was  the  first 
message  of  the  Apostles  to  the  world.  To  a 
modern  reader  there  is  something  almost 
harsh  in  the  contrast  between  “Jesus,  a  man 
approved  among  you,”  with  which  the  passage 
begins,  and  “  God  hath  made  that  same  Jesus 
both  Lord  and  Christ.”  There  is  nothing  said 
here  of  a  miraculous  birth,  nor  of  a  calling 
at  baptism  ;  but  the  earthly  and  the  heavenly 
life  are  placed  side  by  side  like  the  leaves  of 
a  diptych.  On  one  tablet  we  see  a  human 
figure,  gracious  and  beautiful,  a  wandering 
prophet  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  disciples  ;  on 
the  other,  a  radiant  spiritual  being,  crowned 
with  glory,  seated  high  on  a  celestial  throne. 


The  Basis  of  Christology  233 

Yet  the  two  tablets  are  inseparably  joined. 
We  are  reminded  of  a  like  phrase  in  Hebrews  i1 
“  We  see  Jesus  because  of  the  suffering  of 
death  crowned  with  glory  and  honour.” 

Not  very  different  are  the  words  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Philippians ,  which  I  have 
already  quoted,  though  St  Paul  adds  a  certain 
amount  of  theory,  or  theology,  to  the  historic 
view  : 2  “  Christ  Jesus,  being  found  in  fashion 
as  a  man,  humbled  Himself,  becoming  obedient 
unto  death,  yea,  the  death  of  the  cross.  Where¬ 
fore  also  God  highly  exalted  Him,  and  gave 
unto  Him  the  name  which  is  above  every 
name.”  I  have  not  quoted  the  whole  of  these 
passages,  but  only  so  much  of  them  as  may 
fairly  be  regarded  as  a  summary  of  the  actual 
history  of  the  Christian  Church.  They  set 
forth  clearly  the  two  parts  into  which  that 
history  must  be  divided :  the  earthly  life  of 
the  Founder,  and  His  exalted  life  in  the 
Church.  And  they  lay  emphasis  on  the 
power  which  joined  these  two  into  one,  the 
1  Heb.  ii.  9.  2  Phil.  ii.  6. 


234  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

only  power  which  could  join  them — the  deter¬ 
minate  purpose  of  God. 

That  the  joining  was  the  work  of  God,  the 
greatest  work  which  even  the  Author  of  the 
Universe,  visible  and  invisible,  has  within  our 
knowledge  effected,  is  part  of  Christian  belief. 
But  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  power  of 
God  worked  in  this  case,  there  may  be,  and 
there  are,  many  theories.  It  is  indeed  the 
birthplace  of  all  views  of  Christianity  and  of 
the  Church.  It  is  the  testing-place  of  theo¬ 
logical  constructions. 

If  the  eleven  Apostles  had  been  asked  how 
they  knew  that  their  Master  was  arisen,  and 
working  with  them  in  their  work,  they  might 
probably  have  answered  that  they  were  sure 
of  it  because  He  had  appeared  to  many  of 
them  in  bodily  form.  For  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  this  was  a  general  belief  among 
them,  although  the  accounts  which  have  come 
down  to  us  of  such  appearances  are  in  an 
extreme  degree  confused  and  inconsistent. 
These  accounts,  as  we  have  them,  add  details 


The  Basis  of  Christology  235 

which  would  convince  a  Jew  of  the  time,  by 
stating  that  the  Lord  appeared  to  the  Apostles 
with  wounds  still  unhealed,  and  with  hunger 
which  could  only  be  appeased  by  the  eating 
of  material  food.  These  details,  which  at  the 
time  carried  conviction,  are  to  us  a  cause  of 
difficulty  so  great  that  most  theologians  slur 
them  over.  Some  critics  have  accused  me  of 
unnecessarily  dwelling  upon  them.  I  can 
only  answer  that  I  but  follow  the  example  of 
the  Evangelists  themselves,  who  repeatedly 
insist  upon  the  corporeal  nature  of  the  appear¬ 
ances  of  their  Lord.  “  A  spirit  hath  not  flesh 
and  bones  as  ye  see  Me  having.” 

When  we  come  to  St  Paul,  who  is  in  point 
of  time  our  earliest  literary  authority  for  the 
Resurrection,  we  find  no  doubt  a  somewhat 
changed  point  of  view.  He  believed  that 
Jesus  had  appeared  to  himself,  but,  as  it  would 
seem,  in  a  less  distinctly  material  form.  This 
appearance  is  referred  to  in  the  Corinthian 
Epistles.  In  the  book  of  Acts  we  have  three 
accounts  of  it,  all  varying  in  important  points, 


236  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

but  all  agreeing  that  the  appearance  was  not 
of  a  merely  material  character :  to  Paul,  as  to 
Stephen,  Jesus  appeared  in  exalted  spiritual 
glory.  To  saints  of  the  ancient  and  the 
mediaeval  Church  such  bodily  visions  of  Jesus 
in  glory  were  quite  usual.  One  of  the  most 
recent,  and  by  no  means  the  least  remarkable, 
of  these  visions  is  recorded  in  the  life  of  the 
Scotch  missionary,  James  Paton.  He  tells 
how,  when  in  despair  at  the  greatness  of  a 
task  which  lay  before  him,  he  saw  a  vision  of 
the  Lord  which  so  encouraged  him  that  he 
returned  to  his  work  with  fresh  courage  and 
accomplished  it  with  ease. 

We  may  thus  trace  two  successive  stages 
in  the  appearance  of  the  risen  Lord  to  His 
disciples.  First,  there  is  the  material  or  bodily 
appearance,  the  actual  contact  with  which  is 
said  to  have  convinced  the  sceptical  Thomas. 
Secondly,  there  is  the  appearance  of  a  spiritual¬ 
ised  body,  such  as  that  which  St  Paul  saw  on 
the  way  to  Damascus,  and  Stephen  saw  stand¬ 
ing  on  the  right  hand  of  God.  And  later 


The  Basis  of  Christology  237 

came  not  dissimilar  visions,  though  naturally 
they  seem  to  us  less  real,  seen  by  devoted 
believers,  and  which  have  often  been  to 
them  a  source  of  energy  and  inspiration. 
I  was  about  to  write  “  seen  by  favoured 
believers  ” ;  but  there  came  into  my  mind 
the  noble  saying  of  the  Fourth  Gospel, 
“  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and 
yet  have  believed.” 

The  tales  told  in  the  Gospels  of  visions  of 
the  risen  Christ,  and  the  reports  of  those  who 
have  had  such  visions  in  more  recent  times,  do 
not  impress  us  with  the  same  conviction  with 
which  they  impressed  our  ancestors.  We 
have  learned  from  psychology  and  the  history 
of  religious  movements  that  in  certain  condi¬ 
tions  of  health  and  of  mind  the  inner  sense, 
like  a  magic  lantern,  throws  its  impressions 
upon  the  world  outside.  It  is  not  easy  to  see 
how  we  can  attach  evidential  value  to  visions 
of  Christ,  and  refuse  it  to  visions  of  the 
Mother  of  Jesus  and  of  the  Saints  which 
abound  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and 


238  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

which  it  is  not  possible  to  brush  aside  as  the 
results  of  mere  superstition  or  imposture. 

We  have  in  fact,  perhaps  without  fully 
realising  it,  completely  changed  our  point  of 
view  as  regards  visions  and  communications 
from  the  unseen  world.  The  question  which 
perplexed  men  from  the  beginnings  of  Christi¬ 
anity  to  the  time  of  Joan  of  Arc,  and  later, 
was  whether  they  came  from  above  or  were 
a  mere  device  of  Satan.  If  they  came  from 
above,  they  carried  their  own  credentials,  and 
no  one  cared  nicely  to  inquire  exactly  what 
they  proved.  If  they  were  from  below,  they 
were  merely  misleading,  successful  plots  by 
which  the  enemy  of  mankind  brought  men 
into  his  power.  The  question  which  perplexes 
us,  more  sceptical  and  rational  than  our 
ancestors,  is  whether  such  visions  are  really 
spiritual  inspirations,  or  whether  they  may 
be  accounted  for  by  an  abnormal  state  of 
health  or  an  overexcited  brain. 


The  Basis  of  Christology  239 


11 

In  modem  days,  speaking  generally,  it  is 
not  to  visions  that  Christians  trust  as  the 
source  of  their  faith.  It  is  rather  to  an 
inward  spiritual  experience.  The  facts  of  this 
experience  are  set  forth  in  a  very  striking  way 
in  Dr  Dale’s  remarkable  work,  The  Livmg 
Christ,  to  which  I  would  refer  as  proof  that 
a  life  amid  modern  conditions,  lived  in  close 
contact  with  all  the  new  tendencies  of  the  age, 
is  not  in  the  least  incompatible  with  a  close 
dependence  upon  the  unseen  Head  of  the 
Church. 

The  means  by  which  ordinary  Christians  ap¬ 
proach  the  Head  of  the  Church  are  prayer  and 
the  Christian  Communion.  And  in  most  cases 
the  relations  between  the  disciple  and  the  Head 
are  so  closely  bound  up  with  facts  of  religious 
psychology  as  to  be  practically  inseparable 
from  them.  The  spiritual  life  of  which 
repentance  and  faith  are  the  most  striking 
phenomena  rests  on  a  basis  of  experience 


240  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

which  is  made  up  of  the  relations  between  the 
branches  and  the  Vine,  between  the  members 
and  the  Head.  The  testimony  of  the  eyes 
and  ears  is  no  longer  necessary  to  persuade 
the  votary  of  the  presence  of  his  Master : 
he  is  convinced  of  it  by  a  series  of  inner 
experiences  which  make  up  the  history  of 
his  soul. 

I  will  not  speak  any  further  of  this  Christian 
consciousness — of  which,  in  fact,  Christians  do 
not  like  to  say  much.  But  the  communion 
as  described  by  Dr  Dale  is  essentially  a 
personal  thing.  It  belongs  to  the  individual. 
To  the  individual  it  carries  a  force  of  convic¬ 
tion  which  needs  no  confirmation,  and  is 
impatient  of  any  doubts.  But  it  is  not  the 
kind  of  mental  experience  which  can  be  cited 
as  evidence  for  any  external  fact.  It  cannot 
be  brought  before  a  sceptic  or  an  inquirer  as 
a  proof  of  the  objective  source  of  the  Christian 
inspiration.  And  from  this  point  of  view  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  distinguish  it  from  a 
personal  devotion  to  the  Virgin  Mother  or 


The  Basis  of  Christology  241 


to  any  of  the  Saints,  or  indeed  from  the  close 
communion  with  unseen  powers  which  has 
marked  in  all  ages  the  religions  of  mysticism. 
In  all  these  cases  alike  we  find  a  communion 
which  satisfies  the  believer,  and  to  which  he 
clings  with  all  the  force  of  faith.  This 
communion  certainly  has  its  roots  in  the 
unseen,  but  it  would  have  to  a  sceptic  no 
evidential  value  ;  and  the  world  at  large  would 
judge  it  by  the  practical  and  ethical  results 
which  it  brings  forth  in  the  life. 

There  is  one  way,  and  one  way  only,  in 
which  communications  of  this  kind  may  be 
tested.  This  test  is  by  their  fruits ;  and  it 
must  be  applied,  not  in  a  speculative,  but  in 
a  practical  way.  It  must  be  by  the  kind  of 
judgment  called  by  the  Ritschlians  value- 
judgments.  An  individual  has  a  right  to 
claim  communion  with  a  spiritual  inspirer 
if  the  result  of  that  inspiration  is  a  nobler, 
more  devoted  life. 

The  world  will  and  must  judge  of  such 
spiritual  experiences  by  the  result.  One  can- 


16 


242  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

not  well  deny  the  spiritual  inspiration  of  Joan 
of  Arc,  considering  the  work  to  which  she  was 
called.  To  Joan,  doubtless,  her  visions  of  St 
Margaret  and  St  Catharine  were  part  of  her 
spiritual  experience,  and  any  scepticism  in 
regard  to  the  reality  of  those  visions  would 
have  been  intolerable  to  her.  But  they  could 
not  be  brought  forward  as  a  proof  of  the 
eternal  glory  of  the  two  saints  in  question,  of 
whom  history  knows  but  little.  We  may 
accept  the  reality  of  the  communion  of  Joan 
with  the  unseen  without  being  able  to  regard 
as  objective  the  forms  in  which  her  imagination 
clothed  that  communion. 

It  is  possible  to  formulate  a  satisfactory 
defence  of  the  data  of  spiritual  experience 
from  the  practical,  if  not  from  the  speculative, 
point  of  view.  A  judgment  in  this  realm  may 
have  value  even  if  it  be  not  speculatively 
provable.  And  the  whole  of  our  practical  life 
in  the  world  is  full  of  such  judgments,  without 
which  we  could  not  pass  a  single  day  as  ethical 
and  responsible  human  beings.  The  philo- 


The  Basis  of  Christology  243 

sophic  difficulties  which  thus  arise  are  not 
speculatively  solvable,  but  without  their  daily 
and  hourly  practical  solution  there  would  be 
no  continuity  in  history. 

Take,  for  example,  the  Christian  conscious¬ 
ness  of  the  best-known  to  us  among  the  leaders 
of  the  early  Church.  Strictly  speaking,  we 
must  allow  that  there  was  logically  a  break 
between  the  spiritual  experience  of  St  Paul 
and  his  view  of  the  origin  of  his  inspiration. 
But  he  was  not,  of  course,  at  all  aware  of  that 
break.  And  it  was  a  break  of  the  same  kind 
as  those  which  we  find  in  our  daily  lives,  and 
are  accustomed  to  ignore.  There  is  a  logical 
break  which  is  impassable  between  our  per¬ 
ceptions  and  the  external  world  of  which  they 
testify.  There  is  a  logical  defect  in  our  belief 
that  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow,  or  that  iron 
when  thrown  into  the  water  will  sink.  There 
is  always,  between  perception  and  action,  a 
logical  fault,  a  gap  which  has  to  be  filled  up 
by  an  exercise  of  faith.  St  Paul  made  as¬ 
sumptions  ;  but  they  were  only  such  assump- 


244  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

tions  as  every  man  has  to  make  who  lives  a 
human  life  amid  ordinary  surroundings.  The 
real  question  is  whether  his  assumption  was 
justified  by  the  result.  And  here  we  have 
to  appeal  to  the  whole  subsequent  history 
of  Christianity ;  and  no  Christian  can  for  a 
moment  misread  it. 

We  have  then  to  say,  with  St  Paul,  that 
the  source  of  the  Christian  inspiration  was 
the  spirit  of  Christ  working  in  the  world  to 
redeem  and  to  purify  it.  How  this  could 
be  we  know  not ;  for  we  know  little  as  to 
the  working  of  spirits  apart  from  the  body. 
Perhaps  I  should  say  we  know  little  as  yet. 
For  there  can  scarcely  be  a  question  that 
more  may  be  learned  by  careful  inquiry. 
But  at  present  we  are  at  a  transition  point. 
We  have  given  up  the  old  views  of  verbal 
inspiration  and  communication  by  a  voice 
from  heaven,  and  have  not  yet  succeeded  in 
putting  in  their  place  more  reasonable  opinions. 
Therefore  our  language  can  be  but  vague. 
We  can  only  say  that  the  same  spirit  which, 


The  Basis  of  Christology  245 

being  manifest  in  Jesus,  set  forth  a  new  kind 
of  faith  and  a  new  way  of  life,  acted  after  the 
bodily  removal  from  earth  of  the  Master  in 
the  spiritual  consciousness  not  only  of  those 
who  had  been  His  companions,  but  also  of 
those  who  had  not  seen  and  yet  had  believed. 


hi 

Looking  at  Christianity  from  without  and 
not  from  within — not  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  Christian  consciousness,  but  from  that  of 
observation  and  history — we  see  that  the  only 
satisfactory  proof  of  connection  between  the 
Founder  of  Christianity  and  the  Church  must 
lie  in  an  ethical  and  spiritual  continuity 
between  them. 

The  most  solid  proof  that  the  Founder  of 
Christianity  is  also  the  life  and  the  sustainer 
of  the  Church  is  to  be  found  in  the  continuity 
of  life  in  the  members  of  the  Church  itself. 
This  is  a  proof  which  belongs  to  the  com¬ 
munity  rather  than  to  the  individual. 


246  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

This  also  belongs  to  the  practical  rather 
than  to  the  speculative  side  of  man.  For,  if 
we  can  suppose  a  person  whose  historic 
scepticism  was  complete,  who  had  no  “  views  ” 
but  went  slavishly  by  document,  there  are 
scarcely  any  documents  of  early  Christianity 
in  which  he  might  not  pick  holes.  They  have, 
indeed,  all  to  be  taken  subject  to  reasonable 
historic  criticism.  It  is  the  general  result  of 
them  interpreted  by  a  mind  which  is  not  a 
blank,  but  part  of  a  character,  which  induces 
conviction.  And  the  matter  is,  above  all,  one 
which  is  not  for  the  mere  individual  investi¬ 
gator.  If  the  early  documents  of  the  faith 
had  been  now  first  discovered  in  the  sarco¬ 
phagi  of  Egypt  by  modern  investigators,  the 
question  of  the  relations  of  the  Head  to  the 
Church  would  not  have  had  any  present  or 
burning  interest.  Or,  again,  an  individual  has 
it  in  his  power,  if  he  pleases,  to  rest  in  the 
fact  and  reality  of  his  spiritual  experience,  and 
not  to  trouble  himself  with  history.  But  such 
limitation  is  an  unwise,  under  existing  con- 


The  Basis  of  Christology  247 

ditions  almost  a  fatal,  course.  Every  thought¬ 
ful  Christian  must  needs  take  up  the  historic 
question  with  interest,  and  try  to  find  by  it  a 
theoretic  justification  of  the  demands  of  the 
spirit. 

And  as  a  matter  of  fact  every  one  of  us 
belongs,  to  an  extent  that  we  seldom  realise,  to 
the  community  in  which  we  live.  “No  man 
liveth  to  himself.”  We  inherit  all  the  results 
of  the  thought  and  the  purposes  of  our 
ancestors,  look  at  the  world  through  their 
glasses,  profit  by  their  labours  or  expiate  their 
faults.  We  cannot,  if  we  would,  start  with 
mind  and  character  like  a  blank  book  to  be 
filled  with  the  personal  narrative  of  our  own 
lives.  Each  of  us  belongs  to  a  school,  to  a 
way  of  thought  and  action,  often  to  a  compli¬ 
cated  way,  produced  by  the  interaction  of 
many  tendencies  and  habits.  And  each  of  us 
belongs  to  a  family  and  a  nation,  whence  we 
inherit  not  only  intellectual  tendencies,  but 
profound  moral  bias,  which  if  we  could  throw 
aside  we  should  become  colourless  without 


24S  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

being  impartial.  It  is,  then,  through  a  genial 
and  sympathetic  interpretation  of  Christian 
life  in  the  past  that  we  must  approach  the 
problem  set  before  us. 

It  is,  however,  unnecessary  to  take  a  really 
agnostic  line.  Faith  in  Christ  belongs  to  the 
practical,  not  to  the  speculative  side  of  our 
nature,  and  it  belongs  to  the  community 
rather  than  to  the  individual.  But  though  it 
would  be  difficult  or  impossible  to  establish  it 
on  merely  psychologic  or  historic  grounds,  I 
should  be  far  from  saying  that,  when  accepted, 
it  cannot  be  justified  in  the  courts  of  experi¬ 
ence  and  of  history.  It  goes  beyond  history, 
but  it  cannot  be  said  to  be  in  conflict  with  it. 
The  further  historic  criticism  is  carried,  the 
surer  appears  the  residuum  which  it  cannot 
destroy.  Criticism  of  great  poets  like  Shake¬ 
speare  and  Dante  has  been  in  our  day  carried 
to  extremes,  but  the  result  is  that  those  men 
of  genius  shine  ever  more  brightly  on  the 
intellectual  horizon.  So  a  discerning  criticism 
brings  out  with  fresh  force  the  inspiration  of 


The  Basis  of  Christology  249 

the  life  and  teaching  of  the  Founder  of 
Christianity.  And  the  life  and  teaching  of 
the  Founder  are  seen  to  have  a  profound 
kinship  with  the  tendencies  and  the  ideas 
which  made  the  fortune  of  rising  Christianity. 
With  changing  circumstance  these  ideas 
change  their  aspect ;  but  beneath  the  surface 
they  still  persist.  It  is  still  the  doctrine  of 
the  Divine  will  and  the  spirit  of  Divine  obe¬ 
dience  which  pass  into  the  Church,  not  only 
from  its  present  inspiring  power,  but  also  from 
its  visible  historic  origin.  Considering  how 
little  St  Paul  knew,  or  wished  to  know,  in 
regard  to  the  human  life  and  teaching  of  his 
Master,  it  is  marvellous  how  great  is  the 
essential  similarity  of  their  teaching.  And 
that  teaching  is  still  the  precious  possession 
of  the  Churches  of  to-day. 


IV 

W e  cannot  wonder  that  as  the  spiritual 
communion  of  the  Church  with  Christ  went 


250  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

on,  and  the  more  notable  saints  had,  like  St 
Paul,  visions  and  revelations  of  the  Lord, 
while  at  the  same  time  the  Jesus  of  history 
faded  more  and  more  into  the  distance  of  the 
remote  past — we  cannot  wonder,  I  say,  that  the 
current  Christology  took  constantly  a  loftier 
and  a  more  mystic  tinge.  As  Harnack  has 
observed,  in  the  first  centuries  of  Christianity 
every  view  which  tended  to  exalt  the  person 
of  the  Master  had  on  its  side  a  devotion  and  a 
passionate  love  which  secured  it  the  victory. 
Some  of  the  sects  of  the  early  Church  seem 
almost  to  have  ignored  the  fact  that  Christ 
had  come  in  the  flesh,  and  to  have  made  Him 
only  an  aspect  of  the  creating  and  all-present 
Divine  Being.  If  the  Monothelites  and 
Monophysites  had  had  their  way,  the  human 
nature  in  Christ  would  have  been  quite  lost 
sight  of,  or  been  recognised  only  by  heretics. 
At  a  later  time,  when  the  iconoclastic  con¬ 
troversy  was  raging,  it  seemed  to  the  fervid 
destroyers  of  images  almost  a  blasphemy  to 
represent  Christ  by  an  image  with  the 


The  Basis  of  Christology  251 


semblance  of  a  mere  man.  Yet  upon  the 
whole,  by  the  Divine  providence,  the  com¬ 
munity  did  continue,  often  with  a  noble 
self-contradiction  which  was  far  better  than 
a  shallow  consistency,  to  maintain  at  once  the 
human  and  the  Divine  in  Jesus  Christ.  The 
Gnostics  were  routed,  the  monophysites  were 
defeated,  the  ideas  of  the  iconoclasts  were 
cast  out.  An  appeal  always  lay  to  the 
historic  Gospels ;  and  the  figure  of  the 
Master,  however  exalted  and  mystic,  yet 
remained  a  human  figure. 

It  may  be  feared  that  the  great  Reformers 
of  the  sixteenth  century  were  in  this  matter 
less  successful  than  the  previous  teachers  of 
the  Catholic  Church.  They  pressed  to  an 
extreme  such  doctrines  as  that  of  St  Paul, 
that  Christ  died  for  all  men,  and  that  of  the 
Writer  to  the  Hebrews,  that  Christ  lives  at 
the  right  hand  of  God  to  make  intercession  for 
us.  And  they  were  terribly  determined  in 
their  efforts  to  construct  on  such  bases  logical 
systems  of  theology,  using  the  wings  of  reason 


252  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

in  an  air  too  thin  to  sustain  them.  Hence  in 
some  branches  of  the  Reformed  Church  there 
has  prevailed  something  approaching  ditheism  ; 
a  distinction  somewhat  like  that  of  Marcion 
between  a  Creating  and  a  Redeeming  Deity 
being  accepted.  The  impending  wrath  of  the 
Father  was  supposed  to  be  turned  aside  by 
the  Son.  Perhaps  the  services  of  the  Church 
of  England  are  not  quite  free  from  this  taint ; 
and  certainly  the  services  of  some  of  the 
Dissenting  bodies  have  not  escaped  it.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  as  a  corrective,  the  Gospels 
were  introduced  by  the  Reformers  to  the 
nations  of  Europe  in  their  own  languages ; 
and  as  they  became  the  daily  study  of  all 
religious  people,  the  teaching  and  the  life 
of  Jesus  when  on  earth  could  not  be  lost 
sight  of  again. 

We  have  to  avoid  two  dangers.  On  one 
side  is  the  danger  of  treating  the  Synoptic 
Gospels  as  what  they  certainly  are  not,  sober 
and  adequate  history  —  a  course  which  may 
well  lead  us  to  taking  a  merely  humanistic 


The  Basis  of  Christology  253 

view  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity.  In 
taking  this  line  we  should  not  merely  entirely 
fail  to  explain  the  existence  of  Christianity  as  a 
religion,  but  we  should  also  be  guilty  of  the 
materialism  which  is  content  with  the  outward 
shows  of  things  instead  of  regarding  life  as  a 
mere  manifestation  of  idea  and  of  spirit,  and 
of  the  rationalism  which  places  thought,  reason, 
and  speech  above  will,  purpose,  and  character. 
If  Jesus  Christ  be  not  in  some  sense  divine, 
then  we  live  in  a  universe  which  has  nothing 
divine  in  it. 

But  we  have  also,  even  in  this  age,  to  beware 
of  the  opposite  extreme.  Those  to  whom  the 
power  of  the  spirit  of  Christ  is  a  living  reality 
are  exceedingly  apt  to  interpret  in  a  non¬ 
natural  way  the  human  life  of  the  Master,  to 
make  it  an  unreal  show.  Unless  Jesus  was  a 
man  with  limited  knowledge,  with  human 
attributes,  passions,  and  temptations,  his  life 
can  be  to  us  no  true  model  but  only  a  mirage. 
If  his  birth  was  miraculous,  and  his  course 
marked  by  a  superhuman  power  over  the 


254  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

forces  of  nature,  then  the  phrases  of  the  Gospels 
become  utterly  untrue.  “  He  that  believeth 
on  Me,  the  works  that  I  do  shall  he  do  also  ” ; 
“Ye  have  continued  with  Me  in  My  tempta¬ 
tions  ” — phrases  such  as  these  can  have  no  full 
meaning  to  those  who  merge  the  humanity  of 
Jesus  in  His  divine  nature.  Some  of  the  most 
touching  episodes  in  the  life  of  the  Master — 
such  as  the  Temptation,  the  scene  in  the  garden 
of  Gethsemane,  even  the  death  on  the  cross — 
lose  all  force  and  meaning  if  we  deny  the  true 
and  natural  humanity  of  the  sufferer.  We 
cannot  give  up  either  picture  of  the  diptych, 
and  must  find  some  way  of  uniting  them  into 
a  higher  unity. 


VIII 

THE  CHRISTIAN  CHURCH 

I  must  first  explain  in  what  sense  I  would 
interpret  the  phrase  44  The  Church  ”  or  44  The 
Catholic  Church.”  The  Church  cannot  be 
bounded  by  the  limits  of  any  particular 
ecclesiastical  organisation,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  importance  of  that  organisation  in 
past  history.  Nor  can  the  term  be  taken 
vaguely  to  include  all  who  would  call  them¬ 
selves  by  the  Christian  name.  It  does  not 
consist  of  those  who  hold  any  particular  set 
of  theological  views.  The  Church  is  the  body 
which  continues  upon  earth  the  obedience  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  society  or  societies  which 
exist  for  the  purpose  of  doing  the  will  of  God, 
and  bringing  down  his  kingdom  from  heaven 

255 


256  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

to  earth.  A  church  there  may  be  of  Bud¬ 
dhism,  and  a  church  of  Islam :  the  Christian 
Church  stands  apart  from  these  as  different 
alike  in  the  ideals  which  it  sets  before  itself 
and  in  historic  origin  and  development.  The 
three  great  divisions  of  the  Christian  Church 
— the  Roman  Church,  the  Eastern  Churches, 
and  the  Reformed  Churches  of  the  West — 
embody  various  renderings  of  the  search  for 
the  Kingdom,  and  are  suited  to  different  races 
of  men.  The  life  of  the  Master  and  the 
theology  of  the  New  Testament  are  the  roots 
whence  all  alike  grow  ;  but  the  branches  have 
turned  to  different  points  of  the  compass,  and 
been  affected  by  various  conditions. 


1 

Religion  is  based  upon  spiritual  experience. 
And  the  necessity  for  a  church  is  based  upon 
a  remarkable  fact  in  spiritual  experience.  This 
belongs  as  a  potentiality  to  perhaps  a  large 
part  of  mankind ;  but  as  an  actuality  to  but 


The  Christian  Church  257 

few.  It  is  worth  while  to  observe,  not 
perhaps  as  an  explanation  of  this  fact,  but 
as  a  parallel  to  it,  that  the  peculiar  nervous 
organisation  which  lends  itself  to  the  produc¬ 
tion  of  the  phenomena  of  spiritism  also 
belongs  only  to  a  certain  number  of  people. 
As  some  people  are  better  able  than  others 
to  subordinate  the  conscious  to  the  sub¬ 
conscious  element  in  their  nature,  so  some 
people,  not  by  any  means  necessarily  the  same, 
are  better  fitted  to  be  the  vehicle  of  a  higher 
inspiration. 

Thus  the  great  difference  in  efficacy 

between  the  appeal  to  observation  in  matters 

of  physical  science  and  the  appeal  to 

experience  in  religion  is  that,  whereas  all 

men  who  possess  the  ordinary  senses  are  able 

to  observe  the  facts  of  the  visible  world,  the 

capacity  of  spiritual  observation  belongs  to 

us  in  very  various  degrees.  In  the  case  of 

some  men,  born  to  exceptional  privilege, 

their  whole  life  is  a  wonderful  history  of 

intercourse  with  spiritual  realities.  In  the 

17 


258  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

case  of  others,  who  may  be  worthy  men  and 
excellent  citizens,  intercourse  with  the  unseen 
may  seem,  not  merely  inaccessible  to  them¬ 
selves,  but  so  mingled  with  fancy  and 
subjectivity  as  to  be  thoroughly  untrust¬ 
worthy,  a  realm  of  snares  and  pitfalls.  Such 
natures  will  demand  a  positive  religion,  based 
on  a  definite  supernatural  revelation,  and 
strongly  organised  in  the  world  in  the  form 
of  a  church. 

One  result  of  this  inequality  in  inspira¬ 
tion  is  that  certain  books  resulting  from  a 
special  insight  into  divine  things  are  set 
apart,  by  the  general  feeling  of  mankind, 
as  sacred  and  authoritative.  The  mass^  of 
people,  who  see  things  broadly  and  roughly, 
will  be  apt  to  set  them  down  as  infall¬ 
ible,  meaning  thereby  that  they  are  to  be 
set  above  criticism,  and  regarded  as  finally 
authoritative. 

Another  result  is  the  organisation  of 
societies  the  great  business  of  which  is  to 
hold  as  in  a  reservoir  the  results  of  inspiration, 


The  Christian  Church  259 

and  to  weld  out  of  them  a  system  of  doctrine 
and  of  cultus. 

It  results  from  the  very  nature  of  the  human 
mind  that  all  revelation  must  originally  be 
revelation  to  an  individual.  It  has  very  close 
relations  to  the  will  and  the  personality  of 
him  who  is  its  recipient.  But  revelation  in  a 
church  loses  this  personal  aspect,  and  becomes 
adapted  to  the  community.  Here  again  an 
analogy,  for  it  is  only  an  analogy,  from  the 
facts  of  spiritism  is  very  suggestive.  It  is 
observed  that  the  communications  from  some 
subconscious  source  which  come  by  writing 
or  otherwise  to  spiritist  circles  depend  for 
their  character  in  some  degree  upon  all  those 
present ;  and  the  taking  away  from,  or 
addition  to,  the  circle  of  members  will  alter 
the  character  of  the  communication.  The 
presence  of  a  thoroughly  unsympathetic  or 
hostile  nature  may  stop  the  flow  of  communi¬ 
cation  altogether.  Hence  it  would  seem  that 
when  a  number  of  people  are  met  together 
for  a  common  purpose  something  is  present 


260  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

besides  the  sum  of  their  individualities,  some 
general  character  or  consciousness.  How  this 
can  be  we  know  not :  these  phenomena  have 
not  yet  been  sufficiently  studied.  In  the 
same  way,  as  every  orator  is  aware,  the 
sympathy  of  an  interested  audience  will 
greatly  help  and  stimulate  him,  and  perhaps 
furnish  him  with  fresh  ideas  on  the  subject 
on  which  he  is  speaking.  It  is  known  that 
there  have  been  remarkable  instances  of 
collective  hallucination,  when  the  presence 
of  a  strong  common  belief  has  even  so  far 
dominated  the  senses  of  all  present  as  to 
transform  what  was  properly  only  subjective 
into  objects  accessible  to  the  external  senses. 

Every  fact  is  sacred,  and  every  fact  may 
have  inferences  of  unlimited  extent.  These 
facts  of  psychology  may  help  us  to  understand 
how  there  has  always  been  in  the  assemblies 
of  the  Christian  Church  an  inspiration 
different  from  the  inspiration  of  individuals — 
the  sum  of  individual  inspirations,  yet  with 
something  added.  The  general  tendency  of 


The  Christian  Church  261 


such  common  impulse,  whatever  its  ultimate 
source,  would  no  doubt  be  influenced  by  that 
of  the  most  powerful  spiritual  natures  present ; 
but  it  would  be  at  once  rendered  more  intense 
and  shorn  of  personal  aberrations  by  the 
common  feeling. 

What  applies  to  the  ordinary  Christian 
assembly  would  also  apply  to  those  concen¬ 
trated  assemblies  called  Councils  of  the 
Church.  If  the  spirit  of  the  Founder 
remained  in  the  Church  to  guide  and  to 
animate  it,  it  would  be  present  especially  in 
these  unions  of  the  most  remarkable  leaders 
of  religion.  Their  decisions,  especially  those 
of  the  earlier  Councils,  must  be  regarded  with 
the  greatest  respect.  But  to  say  this  is  very 
far  from  saying  that  they  were  infallible. 
And  we  may  easily  discern  two  circumstances 
which  must  make  us  very  unwilling  to  ascribe 
to  them  infallibility. 

In  the  first  place,  as  the  Church  became 
less  spiritual  and  lived  on  closer  terms  with 
the  world,  those  who  composed  the  Councils 


2  6 2  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

ceased  to  be  necessarily  her  most  highly 
inspired  and  gifted  members.  And  the 
Roman  Emperors  took  to  interfering  on 
political  grounds  with  the  liberty  of  decision. 
Earthly  considerations  became  of  greater  and 
greater  account ;  and  if  the  Councils  seem  on 
the  whole  to  have  taken  a  good  line,  this 
often  arose  from  the  predominant  influence  of 
a  man  or  men  who  spoke  with  an  irresistible 
authority,  and  compelled  the  rest  to  give  way. 
In  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  probably 
the  only  alternative  to  anarchy  and  the  infinite 
division  of  Christianity  lay  in  accepting  the 
rule  of  Bishops  and  the  doctrinal  decisions  of 
Councils. 

In  the  second  place,  of  whatever  nature  the 
inspiration  of  Councils  might  be,  it  certainly 
did  not  give  them  supernatural  wisdom  in 
matters  of  science  and  philosophy.  Their 
chief  work  was  the  formulation  of  doctrine ; 
and  in  this  matter  the  head  wras  involved  as 
well  as  conscience  and  heart.  If  their  formulas 
usually  embodied  the  best  way  of  deciding 


The  Christian  Church  263 

the  doctrinal  questions  before  them  with  a 
view  to  the  interests  of  the  Church  and  her 
continued  life,  they  had  to  be  set  forth  in 
terms  of  the  current  philosophy ;  and  that 
philosophy  being  by  no  means  eternal,  but 
very  apt  to  pass  out  of  date,  there  was  in  their 
decrees  an  element  of  weakness  and  decay 
which  is  already  sufficiently  evident,  and 
which  will  probably  become  more  evident  as 
days  go  on,  and  the  great  changes  introduced 
during  the  last  century  in  our  ways  of  regard¬ 
ing  nature  and  man  proceed  to  their  inevitable 
consequences. 

However,  looking  at  the  subject  in  a  purely 
historic  light,  and  setting  aside  a  too  modern 
point  of  view,  we  may  see  how  the  early 
organisation  of  the  Church  enabled  her  to  be 
the  vehicle  of  the  Christian  spirit,  and  to  resist 
some  at  least  of  the  hostile  forces  which 
threatened  her  destruction.  And  we  learn 
the  lesson  that  there  is  in  all  ages  need  for 
constant  expression  of  the  inspiration  of  the 
Church,  or  of  various  branches  of  the  Church, 


264  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

to  counteract  the  eccentricities  of  individual 
feeling,  and  to  indicate  a  path  of  general 
progress. 


11 

To  the  individual,  the  family,  the  nation, 
there  come  divine  ideas,  revelations  of  some 
phase  or  part  of  the  purposes  of  God  in  the 
world.  The  Christian  Church  is  the  great 
reservoir  into  which  all  the  streams  from 
the  hills  of  spiritual  experience  flow.  She 
treasures  up  all  the  revelations  which  have  in 
successive  ages  been  given  to  those  who  were 
her  sons,  and  strives  to  express  in  the  language 
of  human  wisdom  the  lessons  which  they  have 
taught  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  God  and  the 
duty  of  man.  And  the  Church  is  the  constant 
guardian  of  the  relations  which  exist  between 
man  as  a  spiritual  being  and  the  God  who 
governs  man  and  has  redeemed  him.  It  is 
her  business  to  strive  that  the  will  of  God 
may  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven, 
and  that  there  may  appear  in  the  world  some 


The  Christian  Church  265 

dim  reflection  of  that  divine  kingdom  which 
exists  for  ever  in  the  presence  of  God. 

The  Church  is  the  continuation  upon  earth 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  expression 
of  the  relations  between  the  human  and  the 
Divine  will.  The  test  of  all  life  is  the  energy 
with  which  it  works  upon  its  surroundings. 
So  the  Church’s  life  is  proved  by  the  way  in 
which  it  adapts  to  itself  new  surroundings, 
and  absorbs  into  itself  nutriment  from  all 
forms  of  energy  and  thought  with  which  it 
comes  in  contact.  But  the  corollary  is  evident. 
In  various  ages  and  in  different  countries  the 
Church  must  take  very  different  forms.  Its 
mode  of  government  and  organisation,  in 
particular,  is  a  mere  matter  of  expediency  or 
necessity.  It  is  of  course  most  desirable  that 
in  a  high  sense  there  should  be  unity  in  the 
Church,  that  the  tradition  of  a  common  origin, 
the  relation  to  a  common  Master,  the  accept¬ 
ance  of  sacred  books,  should  hold  the  Church 
together  in  the  face  of  other  religious  or 
temporal  powers.  At  some  periods,  under  the 


266  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

later  Roman  Empire  and  in  mediaeval  Europe, 
far  more  than  this  was  necessary — an  external 
unity  of  control  and  discipline,  without  which 
the  civilised  world  would  have  fallen  into  a 
chaos  of  warring  nationalities.  And  in  the 
Middle  Ages  Christianity  could  only  exercise 
its  spiritual  function  of  holding  the  peoples 
together  and  maintaining  the  unity  of  civilisa¬ 
tion  by  appropriating  and  continuing  the 
tradition  of  the  Roman  dominion. 

The  primacy  of  Rome  and  the  maintenance 
of  the  machinery  of  government  in  the  Church 
under  Roman  control  had  a  complete  historic 
justification.  But  we  must  distinguish  between 
historic  justification  and  present  need.  It  is 
difficult  to  see  what  high  religious  end  would 
be  gained  if  it  were  possible  to  reintroduce 
into  Western  Europe  some  outward  unity  of 
control.  It  would  not  really  draw  the  nations 
into  amity.  The  Austrians  and  Hungarians, 
or  the  Spanish  and  Italians,  are  scarcely  made 
more  friendly  one  to  the  other  as  nations 
because  they  alike  regard  the  Pope  as  the  head 


The  Christian  Church  267 

of  their  religion.  But  on  the  other  side,  if  we 
could  for  a  moment  regard  as  possible  the 
formation  of  a  fresh  religious  unity  between 
the  Teutonic  and  the  Latin  races,  it  would  be 
the  most  deplorable  of  events.  The  strong 
organisation  and  complete  centralisation  of  the 
Roman  Church  must  make  it  the  dominant 
factor  in  any  fresh  union ;  nor  could  Rome 
agree  to  union  on  any  other  terms.  And 
obviously  this  would  mean  the  surrender  of 
religious  liberty  and  spiritual  ideals  in  the 
north  and  west  of  Europe.  Fortunately  this 
notion  of  reunion  is  but  a  nightmare.  It  is 
impossible  in  this  age  to  subject  the  spirit  of 
England,  Sweden,  and  Germany  to  the  Roman 
domination,  unless  one  first  destroyed  the 
religious  life  of  those  countries.  At  the  same 
time  one  must  confess  that  the  Reformed 
Churches  are  passing  through  a  period  of 
great  peril,  and  that  considerable  gains  by  the 
Church  of  Rome  at  their  expense  are  by 
no  means  unlikely  in  the  near  future.  The 
sudden  changes  in  our  moral  and  intellectual 


268  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

horizon  make  timid  people  disposed  to  fly  for 
refuge  to  that  branch  of  the  Church  which 
seems  to  change  the  least.  Only  when  the 
Reformed  Churches  have  learned  more  fully 
to  adapt  themselves  to  the  ideas  of  a  new  age 
will  they  recover  their  influence  among  free 
peoples. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  Church  of  Rome  as 
impervious  to  change.  And  that  is,  broadly 
speaking,  the  aspect  in  which  she  appears  to 
most  people  in  our  day.  Yet  the  Roman 
Church  tries  hard  to  adapt  her  ways  to  such 
of  the  tendencies  of  the  age  as  she  does  not 
regard  as  essentially  at  variance  with  her  fixed 
principles.  And  if  we  look  back  for  several 
centuries  we  shall  see  that  this  self-adaptability 
was  formerly  greater.  M.  Loisy  has  put  it 
forth  as  the  great  merit  of  the  Church  which 
has  its  centre  in  Rome  that  it  has  in  all  ages 
been  adapting  itself  to  changing  ways  of 
thought  and  organisation  in  the  world  which 
lies  around  it.  Certainly  the  Roman  Church 
has  shown  great  vitality,  and  with  that  vitality 


The  Christian  Church  269 

great  power  of  self-adaptation.  More  particu¬ 
larly,  in  the  age  which  followed  the  Reforma¬ 
tion,  she  departed  from  her  previous  ways, 
adapting  herself,  not  to  the  new  spirit  of 
Europe,  but  to  the  spirit  of  the  Latin  races  of 
Europe.  But  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  regard 
the  past,  we  cannot  acquit  the  Roman  organi¬ 
sation  of  the  charge  of  often  adapting  itself  to 
what  was  unworthy  of  approval,  and  what  by 
a  more  determined  attitude  the  Church  might 
have  done  much  to  destroy.  Materialist  views 
of  spiritual  communion,  the  veneration  of 
relics,  the  sale  of  indulgences,  and  many  other 
unworthy  ways  of  thought  and  action  have 
been  from  time  to  time  taken  under  the  pro¬ 
tection  of  Rome.  And  besides,  for  many 
centuries  past,  the  temporal  possessions  of  the 
Papacy  have  been  a  continual  source  of  base 
and  unworthy  concessions  to  worldly  forces. 
The  revolt  of  the  Teutonic  spirit  against 
Roman  domination  was  inevitable  and  final. 
And  at  the  present  day,  though  the  Roman 
Church  has  made  terms  with  some  of  the 


2yo  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

forces  of  the  new  age,  she  has  failed  to  recon¬ 
cile  to  herself  many  others.  With  historic 
science  she  has  a  fresh  and  a  bitter  quarrel. 
With  the  turn  which  speculative  thought  has 
taken  since  the  days  of  Descartes  she  cannot 
reconcile  herself.1  Deliberately  she  has  harked 
back  to  the  Aristotelianism  of  Thomas 
Aquinas  as  a  satisfactory  philosophy  for  the 
present  age.  Her  defenders  boast2  that  the 
Church  is  not  more  hostile  to  the  modern 
spirit  than  was  the  primitive  body  of  Christians 
to  the  ideas  incorporated  in  the  Roman  Empire, 
and  that  in  the  ancient  clashing  the  Church 
came  out  victorious.  This  is  an  odd  travesty 
of  the  truth.  Will,  then,  the  victory  of  the 
Roman  Church  lead  us  to  a  fresh  eclipse  of 
civilisation  ?  The  outlook  is  scarcely  enticing. 
The  spirit  of  nationality  in  France,  in  Austria, 
in  America,  and  above  all  in  Italy  is  growing 

1  So  writes  Dr  Ehrhard  in  his  defence  of  Catholicism : 
“  Attempts  hitherto  made  to  incorporate  in  Catholic 
theology  the  true  results  of  modern  thought  have  hitherto 
nearly  all  missed  their  mark.’’—  Der  Catholizismus,  p.  257. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  343. 


The  Christian  Church  271 

increasingly  hostile  to  Rome.  Between  her 
and  the  best  tendencies  of  modern  education 
there  are  continual  clashings.  How  much 
might  be  done  by  a  reforming  Pope  to  adapt 
the  organisation  and  the  teaching  of  the 
Roman  Church  to  modern  conditions  is  a 
most  interesting  question.  But  the  experi¬ 
ment  is  scarcely  one  which  we  are  likely  to 
witness.  Practically,  one  may  say  that  the 
old  flag  of  Romanism  is  nailed  to  the  mast, 
and  that  the  vessel  to  which  it  belongs  will 
either  survive  almost  in  its  present  guise,  or 
else  bodily  disappear  amid  the  waters.  I  have, 
however,  sufficiently  spoken  elsewhere  of  the 
application  to  the  Roman  Church  of  the 
doctrine  of  development,  and  I  have  no  wish 
to  be  again  drawn  into  the  barren  regions  of 
controversy. 


in 

For  us  the  condition  and  the  future  of  the 
Reformed  Churches  is  a  question  of  closer 
interest  and  of  greater  practical  importance 


272  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

than  any  speculations  as  to  possible  develop¬ 
ments  in  the  Church  of  Rome.  And  truly  we 
have  dangers  and  difficulties  of  our  own  quite 
sufficiently  severe  and  imminent  to  claim  all 
our  attention.  These  difficulties  belong  partly 
to  the  general  position  of  the  Reformed 
Churches ;  partly  they  are  peculiar  to  the 
Anglican  Church,  as  a  compensation  for  her 
many  and  notable  advantages. 

At  the  root  of  all  the  reformed  religion  lies 
the  belief,  the  one  great  indispensable  datum 
of  religion,  that  to  every  human  soul,  apart 
from  all  organisation,  all  race,  all  variety  of 
opinion,  there  lies  open  a  door  of  access  to 
the  spiritual  world  and  its  Divine  Ruler.  It 
holds  that  man  can,  if  he  will,  hear  in  his  own 
heart  the  voice  of  God,  and  receive  into  his 
own  breast  the  stream  of  righteousness,  of 
strength,  of  wisdom,  flowing  from  an  exhaust¬ 
less  spiritual  source.  The  reformed  faith  has 
restored  to  men  the  spiritual  privilege  of 
which  the  Roman  hierarchy  had  tried  to 
deprive  them,  that  each  should  stand  as  a 


The  Christian  Church  273 

priest  in  the  presence  of  his  Maker,  and  offer 
to  Him  the  sacrifice  of  the  will  and  the  heart. 
But  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation  it  was 
necessary  to  set  up  in  opposition  to  the 
authority  of  Rome  some  other  authority 
which  the  Christian  world  could  recognise 
as  its  equal  or  superior.  Naturally  such 
authority  could  not  be  found  in  the  conscience 
of  the  individual.  The  one  harbour  of  refuge 
was  inevitably  to  be  found  in  the  sacred  litera¬ 
ture  of  the  Bible.  Before  the  rise  of  serious 
historic  and  literary  criticism,  it  was  possible 
thus  to  take  the  Bible  as  a  single  whole,  and 
to  produce  out  of  it  systems  of  belief  from 
which  could  be  wrought  the  confessions  of 
churches  and  the  creeds  of  great  divines.  The 
infallibility  or  quasi-infallibility  of  the  Bible 
was  the  basis  on  which  were  erected  the  re¬ 
formed  confessions  of  faith  and  the  reformed 
systems  of  church  organisation. 

A  reform  thus  carried  out  could  not  possibly 

have  permanent  efficacy.  With  the  coming 

in  of  scientific  Biblical  criticism  its  very 

18 


274  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

foundations  were  undermined.  The  Reformers 
had  accepted  the  doctrines  of  the  Roman 
Church  except  in  those  particular  matters  out 
of  which  their  revolt  had  arisen.  They  did 
not  dream  of  revising  the  theology  of  Paul, 
nor  did  they  see  that  the  Fourth  Gospel  stood 
on  an  altogether  different  plane  as  a  historic 
document  from  the  other  three.  They  adopted 
the  old  creeds  of  Christianity,  and  they  were 
almost  more  hostile  to  the  great  revelation 
of  Greece,  to  art  and  poetry  and  the  drama, 
than  was  the  purged  Roman  Church  itself. 
Their  religion  was  not  positive  but  Protestant, 
a  revolt  against  intolerable  abuses  rather  than 
a  new  and  broader  view  of  the  relation  between 
man  and  God. 

It  surely  is  time  that  the  Reformed  Churches 
dropped  the  appellation  Protestant.  When 
the  Reformation  was  struggling  for  its  life 
against  the  vast  political  power  of  Rome,  and 
everyone  who  left  the  old  Church  did  so  at 
the  risk  of  exile  or  death,  it  was  noble  to  be 
Protestant.  But  at  present  the  Church  of 


The  Christian  Church  275 

Rome  has  no  longer  the  power  to  persecute. 
There  is  now  no  reason  why  we  should  protest 
against  the  conscientious  beliefs  of  the  Romans, 
any  more  than  against  those  of  the  Presby¬ 
terians  or  the  Lutherans.  It  is  true  that  it  is 
very  difficult  to  find  another  term  which  will 
include  all  the  non-Roman  churches  of  the 
West.  The  term  “  Reformed  ”  has  unfortun¬ 
ately  been  appropriated  by  the  Calvinists. 
And  a  man  can  scarcely  call  himself  “  a 
Reformed,”  or  it  might  be  fancied  that  he  had 
once  been  a  drunkard. 

The  difficulty  in  finding  an  appropriate 
designation  is  here,  as  it  often  is,  a  sign  that 
the  logical  and  philosophical  problem  has  not 
been  thought  out.  The  various  sections  of 
the  Reformed  Church  even  appeal  to  radically 
different  sources  of  authority.  The  Anglicans 
stand  by  the  Bible  and  the  Prayer  Book,  some 
of  the  Nonconformist  bodies  by  the  Bible  alone, 
the  Wesley ans  by  the  writings  of  their 
founder,  the  Quakers  by  the  inner  light.  In 
future  the  appeal  is  likely  to  lie  more  and 


276  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

more  in  the  direction  of  reverence  for  fact, 
whether  fact  of  psychology  or  of  history.  If 
it  is  true  that  to  every  man  the  way  lies  open 
by  which  he  may  draw  near  to  God,  if  it  is 
true  that  God  forgives  sins  and  bestows  grace, 
then  we  may  hope  by  observing  the  natural 
history  of  the  facts  of  the  religious  life  to 
obtain  for  the  Church  or  the  Churches  an 
incontrovertible  appeal,  and  an  endless  source 
of  spiritual  enlightenment. 

This  is  the  firm  and  lasting  foundation 
of  religion.  But  the  foundation,  however 
necessary  to  a  building,  is  not  its  most 
conspicuous  part.  And  it  is  clearly  shown 
by  the  history  of  Christianity  that  on  the  most 
solid  foundations  buildings  of  a  most  fantastic 
character  may  be  reared.  In  England  and 
America  especially  the  excess  of  individualism 
has  constantly  led  to  the  formation  of  sects  or 
groups,  which  have  been  liable  to  extraordinary 
aberrations  both  in  belief  and  conduct.  The 
conscience  of  an  individual,  however  sensitive 
and  highly  trained,  or  of  a  group  dominated 


The  Christian  Church  277 

by  an  individual,  is  not  to  be  trusted.  We 
must  remember  that  each  individual  is  a  point 
in  two  vast  series.  As  a  point  is  related  to  a 
superficies,  so  the  individual  is  related  to  the 
church  to  which  he  belongs  and  of  which 
he  is  a  part.  As  a  point  is  related  to  an 
infinite  line,  so  an  individual  is  related  to  his 
race,  to  his  ancestors  stretching  back  far  out 
of  sight,  of  whose  life  his  own  is  a  continuation 
and  a  corollary.  Thus  the  Bible  does  not 
reach  us  as  a  mere  book  to  be  read  and 
criticised,  but  a  mass  of  literature  which  has 
been  worked  through  ages  into  the  fibre  of  our 
moral  life.  And  our  Church  is  not  to  us  a 
mere  sum  of  units,  but  a  great  whole  in  regard 
to  which  we  have  duties,  and  which  has  an 
ancestral  claim  on  our  respect  and  obedience. 

That  religious  body  must  in  the  long  run 
prove  most  effective  which  knows  best  how 
to  use  fully,  and  to  organise,  the  spiritual 
experience  of  its  members,  while  at  the  same 
time  keeping  spiritual  aberration  within  bounds 
by  maintaining  a  lofty  standard  of  appeal, 


278  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

based  upon  the  writings  of  the  great  spiritual 
leaders  of  mankind  in  the  past.  I  am,  of 
course,  speaking  of  the  intellectual  aspect  of 
the  matter.  But  really  it  is  at  bottom  a 
question  not  of  knowledge  but  of  faith,  of 
loyalty  to  the  spiritual  Head  of  the  religion, 
of  ready  self-surrender  to  divine  impulses. 
Obedience  is  the  organ  of  spiritual  knowledge. 
He  who  will  do  the  will  of  the  Father  in 
Heaven  shall  know  the  doctrine  whether  it 
be  of  God.  The  Church  which  by  faith  and 
by  charity  most  clearly  lives  in  the  spirit  of 
Christ  is  sure  best  to  carry  on  in  the  world 
the  Christian  life  which  never  ceases. 


IV 

I  have  said  that  the  Anglican  Church  has 
great  troubles  and  difficulties  of  her  own.  To 
me  these  are  so  evident  that  I  fear  lest  in 
glancing  at  them  I  may  leave  the  impression 
of  pessimism  and  despair.  Our  Church  has 
the  enormous  advantage  that  in  an  age  of 


The  Christian  Church  279 

transition,  when  principles  are  in  a  state  of 
flux,  it  provides  a  working  scheme  for  preserv¬ 
ing  order  and  allowing  the  new  leaven  to 
work  beneath  the  surface.  It  has  a  tradition 
of  liberality  and  comprehension ;  men  of  the 
most  different  views  have  been  allowed  a  place 
in  the  ministry,  and  the  cleavage  between 
clergy  and  laity  has  not  in  the  past  been  so 
deep  in  the  Anglican  communion  as  in  any 
of  the  other  great  churches  of  Christendom. 
At  the  present  time  these  are  great  advantages, 
but  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  go  with 
them  deplorable  disadvantages. 

If  the  Anglican  Church  is  liberal  and 
comprehensive,  this  fact  is  in  a  great  measure 
due  to  her  want  of  keen  vitality.  Any  move¬ 
ment  which  arouses  her  from  lethargy  is  sure 
to  diminish  the  breadth  of  her  toleration. 
Perhaps  there  is  no  church  in  Christendom 
which  feels  the  dead  hand  more  heavy  than 
does  the  Anglican.  Her  formularies  were 
drawn  up  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation. 
They  were  written  in  a  spirit  of  compromise, 


2  8o  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

and  therefore  do  not  show  a  logical  plan. 
They  were  written  in  an  uncritical  age,  and 
the  growth  of  historic  science  bears  upon 
them  with  extreme  severity.  In  the  daily 
services  the  whole  of  the  Psalms  is  sung  and 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  Bible  publicly  read  ; 
though  almost  every  modern  congregation 
feels  the  unsuitability  of  much  of  what  is 
thus  brought  before  them.  The  Anglican 
prayers,  if  on  the  whole  beautiful,  are 
monotonous ;  and  the  most  sacred  service, 
that  of  the  Communion,  is  injured  by  the 
introduction  of  such  inappropriate  matter  as 
the  Jewish  ten  commandments,  which  obvi¬ 
ously  belong  to  a  far  lower  level  of  morality 
than  that  of  the  Christian  Church.  Our 
liturgy  sadly  wants  revision,  enlargement, 
variety.  And  the  confessions  of  faith  signed 
by  the  clergy  and  repeated  by  the  laity 
contain  so  many  theses  which  are  utterly 
out  of  date  that  there  is  a  tendency  to  regard 
their  repetition  or  acceptance  as  a  mere  matter 
of  form. 


The  Christian  Church  281 


In  fact,  the  Church  is  bound  hand  and  foot 
with  grave-clothes,  fettered  by  the  historic 
views  of  the  primitive  society,  the  philosophy 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  superseded  theological 
views  of  the  great  Reformers.  She  has 
infinite  need  of  great  leaders  to  adapt  her  to 
a  new  time.  And  yet  at  present  one  scarcely 
sees  the  possibility  of  reform.  The  dominant 
party  in  the  Church,  if  it  had  a  free  hand, 
would  use  it,  not  to  make  alterations  in  the 
direction  of  progress,  but  to  bring  back  many  of 
the  ways  and  the  thoughts  of  the  Dark  Ages. 
Even  so  slight  a  change  as  to  make  optional 
the  repeating  of  the  Athanasian  Creed,  which 
is  a  real  burden  on  the  conscience  of  a  great 
part  of  the  clergy  and  the  mass  of  the  intelli¬ 
gent  laity,  is  strenuously  resisted.  At  present 
one  can  see  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  strive 
earnestly  to  preserve  freedom,  and  to  wait  and 
hope  for  the  growth  of  a  new  spirit. 

Yet,  great  as  are  the  difficulties  which  beset 
the  Anglican  Church,  they  are  not  greater 
than  those  which  lie  before  other  branches  of 


282  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  Christian  tree.  In  the  next  pages  I  hope 
to  approach  them  in  a  less  critical  and  more 
hopeful  spirit,  and  to  attempt  a  more  complete 
discussion  of  the  position  of  liberal  Anglicans, 
so  as  to  discern  how  the  head  of  the  ship 
should  be  set  to  pass  out  of  the  storm  into  a 
serener  sphere. 


IX 

LIBERAL  ANGLICANISM 

In  the  present  discourse  I  wish  to  take  up  a 
question  which  has  limits.  I  propose  to  speak 
not  merely  as  a  Christian,  nor  even  as  a 
Christian  of  the  Reformed  Faith,  but  as  an 
Anglican.  Every  man  must  belong  to  some 
particular  branch  of  the  Church  of  Christ ; 
and  to  me,  after  looking  about  me  on  all  sides, 
it  seems  that  the  Anglican  Church,  in  spite  of 
all  its  difficulties  and  dangers,  to  which  I  am 
in  no  way  blind,  is  yet  the  branch  of  the 
Universal  Church  to  which  I  am  prepared  to 
adhere  with  filial  loyalty. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  maintain  a  narrow 
adherence  to  any  particular  branch  of  the 
Church  Universal.  All  branches  have  their 

283 


284  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

special  excellences  and  their  special  suitability 
to  particular  natures  or  particular  surroundings. 
To  my  thinking  the  via  media  of  the  Anglican 
Church,  avoiding  alike  the  materialism  and 
bigotry  of  Rome  and  the  too  great  subjectivity 
of  the  Protestant  Dissenters,  seems  the  best 
way.  And  I  adhere  to  it  with  the  same  loyalty 
with  which  I  adhere  to  my  country  or  my 
family,  though  neither  of  these  is  above 
criticism.  I  wish  to  consider  what  kind  of 
liberalism  is  best  suited  to  those  who  are 
loyal  members  of  the  Anglican  Church,  and 
especially  those  who  are  lay  members  of  it. 
I  shall  not  attempt  to  be  severely  practical, 
but  rather  to  consider  the  matter  in  the 
light  of  broad  principles  of  belief  and  of 
conduct. 

The  liberal  Christian  who  is  an  Anglican 
will  naturally  differ  on  some  points  from  other 
liberal  Christians.  This  is  a  truism.  But  in 
the  Hibbert  Journal1  a  prominent  Roman 
Catholic  writer  has  expressed  himself  as 

1  Vol.  iii.  p.  376.  The  writer  signs  Romanus. 


Liberal  Anglicanism  285 

follows  : — “  Science  is  science,  not  apologetic  ; 
applied  to  the  critical  movement  in  theology 
the  antithesis  of  Catholic  and  Protestant  is 
out  of  place.”  Of  course  the  main  principles 
of  historic  and  psychologic  criticism  are  the 
same  for  all  of  us.  But  in  their  application 
we  find  great  differences.  The  Roman,  the 
Anglican,  the  Presbyterian,  if  equally  deter¬ 
mined  and  thorough  in  their  acceptance  of 
those  principles,  will  reach  very  different  views 
as  to  Church  government  and  doctrine.  What, 
then,  is  the  particular  complexion  of  liberalism 
which  is  best  suited  to  the  Anglican  Church  ? 
What  is  her  special  task  in  relation  to  the 
great  intellectual  movement  which,  in  one 
form  or  another,  influences  all  educated 
Christians  ? 

I  cannot,  of  course,  in  a  brief  paper  like  the 
present,  analyse  the  character  and  position  of 
the  Anglican  Church.  But  I  may  be  allowed 
to  take  up  certain  salient  features  which  mark 
her.  In  the  first  place,  she  cherishes  an 
ancient  freedom.  In  the  second  place,  she  is 


286  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

national.  In  the  third  place,  she  lies  close  to 
the  main  facts  of  the  spiritual  life.  In  the  fourth 
place,  she  joins  on  to  the  main  stem  of  the 
historic  Church  of  Christ.  I  propose  to  say  a 
few  words  as  to  her  in  each  of  these  aspects. 
And  I  shall  endeavour  to  show  that  in  each 
aspect  there  is  need,  and  there  is  scope,  for  the 
working  of  a  liberal  spirit,  a  spirit  alive  to 
what  is  best  in  the  modern  world,  but  not 
accepting  what  is  worse,  a  spirit  of  progressive 
idealism. 


i 

I  know,  on  the  very  best  authority,  that 
there  is  nothing  which  many  ministers  of  some 
of  the  Nonconformist  bodies  admire  more  in 
our  Church  than  the  liberty  of  clergy  and 
people.  No  doubt  for  this  liberty  we  have  to 
pay  a  price,  in  which  price  the  most  notable 
feature  is  a  good  deal  of  compromise,  and  a 
want  of  logical  roundness.  Our  Church  is  at 
once  Catholic  and  Reformed.  She  is  Epis¬ 
copal,  yet  she  allows  her  bishops  to  be 


Liberal  Anglicanism  287 

nominated  by  the  State,  and  gives  them  very 
little  authority  over  the  clergy.  She  adheres 
to  a  Prayer  Book  drawn  up  amid  all  the 
theological  currents  and  counter-currents  of 
the  times  of  the  Reformation,  and  often 
placing  side  by  side  irreconcilable  views.  If 
her  formularies  were  strictly  interpreted  and 
rigidly  enforced,  she  would  be  among  the 
narrowest  and  most  heavily  fettered  churches 
in  Christendom,  bound  hand  and  foot  in  the 
grave-clothes  of  the  sixteenth  century,  utterly 
unable  to  respond  to  any  fresh  call  of  circum¬ 
stance,  and  unfit  to  move  with  any  new  breath 
of  inspiration. 

But  fortunately  she  redeems  her  original 
inconsistencies  by  remaining  persistently 
illogical.  On  the  whole,  the  secular  courts 
have  greatly  tended  to  preserve  liberty.  So 
long  as  the  machine  has  worked,  the  governing 
body  of  the  nation  has  cared  but  little  about 
intellectual  difficulties.  Subscription  has  be¬ 
come  a  general,  not  a  detailed,  expression  of 
consent  to  the  Prayer  Book.  A  clergyman 


288  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

who  is  useful,  and  has  tact,  may  venture  on 
much  freedom  of  Christian  opinion. 

Of  course  this  want  of  consensus  has  its 
drawbacks.  If  the  Church  were  animated  by 
a  great  religious  revival,  it  would  be  a  sad 
impediment.  Yet  I  think  that  there  are 
reasons  why,  at  the  present  time,  it  is  very 
advantageous. 

Auguste  Comte,  who,  in  spite  of  his  limita¬ 
tions,  was  yet  one  of  the  greatest  thinkers  of 
the  last  century,  laid  down  that  in  a  time  of 
intellectual  transformation  what  was  most 
imperatively  needed  was  a  visible  authority 
which  would  preserve  order,  but  interfere  as 
little  as  possible  with  the  working  of  society. 
Thus  the  practical  freedom  of  the  Anglican 
Church  is,  from  the  liberal  point  of  view,  of 
inestimable  value.  One  of  the  most  pressing 
duties  of  liberal  Churchmen  is  to  discourage 
and  to  oppose  in  every  way  the  tendency 
which  seems  to  be  growing  among  some  of 
our  bishops  to  fancy  that  it  is  their  right  or 
their  duty  more  fully  to  regulate  the  beliefs 


Liberal  Anglicanism  289 

of  the  clergy  in  their  dioceses.  Personally, 
no  doubt,  the  bishops  who  thus  act  are 
among  the  most  conscientious  and  high- 
minded  men  in  the  Episcopal  body.  But 
the  notion  that  in  our  days  of  rapid  intel¬ 
lectual  change  and  development  an  individual 
can  be  justified  in  setting  up  his  own 
opinions  as  a  standard  of  religious  ortho¬ 
doxy  in  a  diocese  is  incongruous  and  even 
ludicrous.  In  the  Church  of  Rome,  of  course, 
it  is  quite  another  matter.  That  Church 
speaks  with  one  voice,  and  one  only.  But  in 
England  it  is  the  ultimate  appeal  to  secular 
courts  which  saves  the  Anglican  Church 
from  narrowness.  If  there  is  to  be  any 
other  standard  of  orthodoxy  than  that  which 
they  maintain,  it  must  be  settled  by  some 
body  which  represents  the  best  and  most 
enlightened  view  of  Anglicanism  as  a  whole, 
lay  as  well  as  clerical.  An  orthodoxy  which 
is  confined  to  this  or  that  district,  and  does 
not  pass  in  the  next  diocese,  is  an  absurdity. 

There  can  be  no  more  obvious  duty  for  a 

19 


290  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

liberal  Churchman  than  to  uphold  liberty  in 
the  Church. 

However,  it  may  safely  be  assumed  that 
on  the  whole  the  freedom  of  belief  in  the 
Anglican  Church  will  vindicate  itself,  that 
the  English  people  will  not  tolerate  the 
introduction  of  new  religious  tests  specially 
designed  to  exclude  or  eject  from  the  Church 
men  of  broader  views.  And  the  next  question 
is,  What  kind  of  liberalism  in  belief  may  be 
expected  to  grow,  behind  the  shield  of  a 
secular  protection,  among  those  Anglicans 
who  adhere  to  the  Christian  Church,  and 
especially  that  pure  and  reformed  branch  of  it 
established  in  this  country. 

The  first  thing  to  be  hoped  is  that  it  will 
not  deal  with  mere  negations.  It  has  always 
been  the  danger  of  reformers  that  they  begin 
by  protesting  against  what  they  see  to  be 
wrong  in  existing  institutions,  and  when  they 
are  opposed  their  protest  grows  louder  and 
more  bitter,  until  they  forget  that  even  an 
abuse  can  only  be  removed  if  one  finds  a  better 


Liberal  Anglicanism  291 

way  of  doing  the  thing  which  must  be  done  in 
one  way  or  another.  Reformers  are  apt  rather 
to  raise  a  storm  in  order  to  tear  away  the 
fading  leaves  from  the  trees,  than  to  imitate 
Nature,  which  pushes  off  the  old  leaf  by  the 
action  of  the  bud  which  contains  the  leaves  of 
next  year.  On  the  Continent  of  Europe  the 
preponderance  of  the  Roman  Church  is  so 
great  that  its  opponents  have  commonly  been 
driven  into  a  “  Protestant  ”  position,  a  position 
of  hostility  rather  than  of  search  for  a  better 
way.  And  thus  they  have  condemned  or  set 
aside  a  vast  deal  which  is  really  in  accord¬ 
ance  with  deep  facts  of  human  nature,  and 
of  which  only  the  traditional  outward  form  is 
inadmissible. 

In  England  and  America  there  is  little  real 
need  or  justification  for  a  merely  destructive 
attitude.  Ultramontanism  is  likely  never  to 
regain  a  predominant  position  among  us. 
And  the  Romanising  tendency  in  the  Church 
of  England  is  not  likely  to  become  a  serious 
danger.  In  the  past  it  has  done  good  as  well 


292  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

as  harm,  but  it  is  an  exotic  which  cannot 
flourish  in  the  soil  of  Anglicanism,  and  the 
number  of  laymen  who  seriously  accept  it  as 
the  way  of  salvation  is  very  small.  We  have 
therefore  little  excuse  for  confining  ourselves 
to  protests  and  objections,  and  are  the  more 
bound  to  move  forward  with  resolute  hopeful¬ 
ness.  To  secure  liberty  is  a  necessity  ;  but 
liberty  does  not  vindicate  itself  unless  it  is 
used  to  good  purpose. 


11 

On  those  who  belong  to  the  particular 
branch  of  the  Church  called  Anglican  there 
is  laid  a  national  duty.  For  the  Anglican 
Church  is  bound,  by  the  very  facts  of  its 
history  and  constitution,  to  claim  to  represent 
the  English  people  as  a  religious  and  spiritual 
personality.  All  the  people  she  of  course  does 
not  represent :  Presbyterians,  Methodists,  and 
Independents  alike  contribute  valuable  ele¬ 
ments  to  the  general  life.  But  the  first  duty 


Liberal  Anglicanism  293 

of  a  national  church  is  to  be  national,  to 
respond  to  the  needs  and  requirements  of  the 
people  in  the  way  best  suited  to  the  national 
character.  Wherein  Englishmen  differ  from 
Italians  and  Spaniards  the  English  Church 
may  be  expected  to  differ  from  the  Church 
originally  organised  in  Italy,  and  largely  re¬ 
shaped  in  Spain  in  the  sixteenth  century. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that,  although  the 
English  have  behind  them  in  the  past  a  history 
more  manly  and  effective  than  that  of  any 
other  country,  and  have  at  present  a  position 
and  destiny  in  the  world  full  of  dignity  and  of 
duty,  yet  we  are  very  backward  to  express, 
even  in  our  own  hearts,  our  national  faith  and 
hope.  The  revival  of  nationality  has  been  one 
of  the  greatest  movements  of  our  time.  In 
many  countries  of  Europe,  especially  in  those 
belonging  to  the  Eastern  Church,  nationality 
is  so  bound  up  with  religion  that  the  two  can 
scarcely  be  separated.  Again,  in  some  of  the 
countries  of  South  Europe,  such  as  Italy,  the 
growing  spirit  of  nationality  has  largely  taken 


294  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

the  place  of  decaying  religious  belief.  This 
would  seem  to  be  the  case  also  in  distant 
Japan.  In  our  own  islands  there  has  arisen  an 
intense  spirit  of  nationality,  allied  with  religion 
— in  Wales  and  Ireland.  England  is  perhaps 
of  all  great  countries  the  least  openly  national. 
The  reason  of  this,  no  doubt,  lies  in  our  history. 
It  has  fallen  to  us  to  control  and  to  weld 
together  many  races  and  countries,  in  regard  to 
which  we  have  had  to  take  up  an  attitude  of 
judicial  impartiality.  To  intrude  upon  them 
the  fact  that  we  are  of  another  nationality 
would  be  to  arouse  difficulties  for  ourselves. 
Yet,  if  Continental  writers  are  to  be  believed, 
the  nationality  of  Englishmen,  though  not 
openly  displayed,  is  very  deep  seated.  There 
is  room  among  us,  in  addition  to  the  imperial 
tendency,  for  a  keener  realisation  of  the  moral 
and  spiritual  personality  of  the  English  race. 

Among  the  various  aspects  which  Chris¬ 
tianity  has  presented  in  recent  times  among 
the  nations  of  Europe,  the  Christianity  of 
England  has  shown  a  clearly  marked  type. 


Liberal  Anglicanism  295 

We  have  not  rivalled  the  Germans  in  the 
speculations  of  religious  philosophy  nor  in  the 
gentle  mysticism  conspicuous  in  the  Moravian 
community.  We  have  not  been  as  logical  in 
developing  doctrine,  whether  Roman  or  Re¬ 
formed,  as  the  French,  with  whom  arose  the 
systems  of  Aquinas,  of  Abelard,  and  of  Calvin. 
Still  less  have  we  approached  the  asceticism 
and  fervent  religiosity  of  the  Spanish.  We 
have  been  conspicuous  for  not  tending  to 
extremes,  for  reverencing  fact  and  reality,  for 
being  anxious  to  judge  religious  developments 
by  the  test  of  fruits  rather  than  by  any  specu¬ 
lative  criticism.  Bishop  Ken,  Bishop  Wilson, 
Dean  Stanley,  Charles  Kingsley,  such  are  the 
men  who  may  fairly  be  taken  as  representing 
the  spirit  of  the  English  Church.  And  what 
they  really  exhibit  is  merely  the  national 
temperament  in  the  sphere  of  religion.  It  is  a 
thing  which  rationalism  and  logic  are  too  apt 
to  overlook,  that  the  temper  of  a  nation  is  its 
most  fundamental  and  abiding  characteristic, 
and  that  only  when  adapted  to  that  temper 


296  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

can  any  form  of  social  organisation,  of  political 
institution,  of  religious  reform,  take  root  and 
flourish.  The  nation  is  what  it  is,  and  no 
amount  of  intellectual  urging  will  make  it 
different :  the  great  object  of  the  reformer 
must  be  so  to  adapt  his  reforms  to  the  deep, 
unconscious  strata  of  the  life  of  the  nation 
that  they  may  thence  draw  a  constant  flow  of 
energy. 

The  Christian  Church  is  the  manifestation 
of  a  continuous  life ;  the  Creeds  are  but 
attempts  to  express  that  life  in  the  terms  of 
philosophy  and  history.  So  also  the  Anglican 
Church  is  the  manifestation  of  the  religious 
life  of  the  English  people.  The  organisers  of 
the  English  Church  did  not  understand  this, 
and  tried  to  mark  out  the  path  of  religious 
thought  as  well  as  of  religious  action  and 
organisation  for  future  ages.  Instead  of 
trying  to  modify  the  lines  thus  drawn,  the 
English  people  has  been  content  to  leave 
them  alone,  stepping  outside  them  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left  on  occasion,  while  ac- 


Liberal  Anglicanism  297 

knowledging  that  in  general  their  guidance  is 
useful  and  beneficent.  From  most  points  of 
view,  except  those  of  reason  and  consistency, 
this  is  no  such  bad  plan. 

Thus  we  have  not  much  to  fear,  in  England, 
in  the  long  run,  from  either  Roman  propa¬ 
ganda  or  organised  socialistic  negation.  Ex¬ 
tremes,  whether  in  speculation  or  practice, 
soon  cause  a  reaction.  What  we  have  rather  to 
oppose  is  the  defects  of  our  national  qualities, 
which  at  various  periods  of  our  history  have 
dragged  us  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  level.  I 
mean  such  qualities  as  inertness,  want  of  faith, 
love  of  material  ease,  indifference  to  the 
higher  life.  These  appear  to  be  the  failings 
which  naturally  go  with  the  better  qualities  of 
the  race,  and  to  contend  against  these  is  to 
work  with  and  not  against  the  grain  of  the 
national  life.  The  great  leaders  are  those  who 
have  been  able  to  persuade  the  people  to  rise  in 
their  own  way  somewhat  above  their  natural 
level,  who  have  made  the  most  of  what  is 
generous  and  manly  in  the  national  tempera- 


2  g  8  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

ment,  and  put  to  shame  for  the  time  the  slow¬ 
ness  of  blood  and  the  materialism  which  have 
opposed  the  working  of  noble  ideas. 

Few  liberal  Churchmen  wrill  doubt  that 
there  is  an  enormous  field  open  to  the  Church, 
if  she  really  sets  herself  to  the  task  of  deepen¬ 
ing  and  raising  the  national  life.  They  are 
much  more  likely  to  be  depressed  by  the  fear 
that  the  task  has  become  too  great  to  attempt 
hopefully. 


iii 

There  were  in  the  Anglican  Church  two 
great  movements  in  the  last  century :  the 
Evangelical  Movement,  and  the  Oxford  Move¬ 
ment  of  half  a  century  ago  which  followed  it. 
Both  of  these  have  been  productive  of  great 
good  ;  but  both  have  fallen  short  of  the  highest 
level,  partly  through  a  want  of  broader  and 
more  liberal  elements. 

The  great  merit  of  the  Evangelical  Move¬ 
ment  was  that  it  brought  forward  and  laid 
great  stress  upon  those  primary  relations 


Liberal  Anglicanism  299 

between  the  human  spirit  and  its  Lord  which 
are  the  ultimate  basis  of  all  religious  belief. 
Such  tenets  as  that  there  is  a  way  of  approach 
to  God  open  to  all  human  souls ;  that  every 
man  stands  in  need  of  Divine  forgiveness, 
yet  can  only  seek  it  through  a  gift  of  Divine 
grace  ;  that  every  man  must  be  born  again  be¬ 
fore  he  can  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
— all  these  are  among  the  elementary  facts  of 
Christian  psychology.  And  the  belief  that 
the  world  of  nature  and  the  world  of  human 
beings  are  not  only  under  the  sway  of  Divine 
law,  but  also  serve  to  work  out  the  Divine 
ideas,  is  also  essential  to  a  religious  view  of 
the  visible  universe.  The  primary  facts  of  the 
religious  experience  of  individuals,  apart  from 
theories  about  those  facts,  and  hope  and  faith 
in  regard  to  the  destiny  of  souls  and  the 
history  of  the  world,  belong  to  all  Christians 
and  to  many  who  do  not  claim  the  name. 
Here  liberalism  consists  mainly  in  reinterpreta¬ 
tion,  in  giving  to  the  same  facts  of  experience 
a  modern  garb  of  theory. 


300  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

And  it  was  here,  I  think,  that  the  Evan¬ 
gelicals  fell  short.  They  were  quite  right 
in  their  main  teachings,  but  it  is  a  pity  that 
they  closely  bound  up  those  teachings  Math 
views  as  to  inspiration,  as  to  the  infalli¬ 
bility  of  the  Bible,  as  to  the  doctrine  of 
salvation,  which  were  out  of  date  and  out  of 
harmony  with  our  surroundings.  The  result 
has  been  that  modern  Evangelicalism  has  the 
air  of  a  thing  that  fears  the  light  of  day,  and  is 
hostile  to  Biblical  criticism  and  scientific  history. 
Yet  the  great  intellectual  discoveries  of  our 
day  are  not  hostile  to,  but  entirely  on  the 
side  of,  religion.  The  progress  of  physical 
science  seems  to  be  cutting  away  the  basis  of 
materialism  as  a  philosophic  doctrine  ;  and  the 
great  movements  in  psychology,  especially  as 
embodied  in  the  works  of  Professor  William 
James,  show  the  phenomena  of  the  spiritual 
life  to  be  on  the  same  plane  of  reality,  to  be 
as  fully  guaranteed  by  experience,  as  any  other 
phenomena  of  the  mind.  They  are  no  more 
morbid  than  are  the  phenomena  of  genius,  or 


Liberal  Anglicanism  301 

the  sexual  emotions  which  spring  up  in  man 
and  woman  as  they  reach  maturity. 

The  liberty  which  exists  in  the  Anglican 
Church,  the  establishment  in  it  of  certain 
barriers  within  which  we  may  freely  move, 
gives  us  especial  opportunities  for  the  rein¬ 
terpretation  of  spiritual  experience.  The 
Roman  Church  has,  through  long  ages, 
closely  bound  herself  with  creed  and  formula. 
How  much  may  be  done  by  a  progressive 
clergyman  of  the  English  Church  in  the  way 
of  renovating  doctrine  and  making  it  actual, 
is  shown  by  the  career  and  the  writings  of 
F.  W.  Robertson.  Robertson  did  not  found 
a  school ;  but  it  may  be  doubted  if  any 
religious  works  of  our  time  have  had  more 
influence  with  the  intelligent  laity  than  his 
sermons.  And  the  preacher  had,  even  in  his 
lifetime,  a  considerable  and  devoted  band  of 
admirers. 

I  shall  not  dwell  longer  on  the  need  of 
reinterpretation  of  fact  and  restatement  of 
doctrine  in  modern  Christianity,  partly 


302  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

because  it  is  a  need  which  is  pressing  in  all 
branches  of  the  Church,  and  my  present  theme 
is  especially  the  needs  and  duties  of  the 
Anglican  community  in  particular.  I  pass 
on,  therefore,  to  speak  of  the  second  of  the 
great  religious  movements  of  the  last  century 
— that  which  originated  in  Oxford  in  the  early 
Victorian  age,  and  which  was  more  distinctly 
Anglican  and  ecclesiastical  than  the  Evangelical 
Movement. 


IV 

While  all  thoughtful  Christians  alike  must 
perceive  that,  without  acceptance  of  the  facts 
of  the  spiritual  life,  all  religion  is  dead ;  to 
those  Christians  who  are  primarily  Churchmen 
these  facts  will  be  almost  like  the  foundation 
of  a  house,  indispensable,  but  out  of  sight, 
while  their  minds  dwell  continually  on  the 
historic  superstructure  of  the  Christian  Church, 
that  vast  and  visible  organisation,  stretching 
back  through  the  ages  to  the  Founder.  They 
will  believe  not  only  in  a  Divine  working  in 


Liberal  Anglicanism  303 

the  world  and  in  human  hearts,  but  also  in  a 
collective  revelation.  They  will  dwell  on  the 
constant  presence  of  the  spirit  of  Christ  in  the 
Church.  It  is  here  that  we  find  what  may  be 
called  the  watershed  between  those  who  are 
Churchmen  and  those  who  are  not :  I  mean 
the  intellectual  difference.  Those  who  regard 
the  history  of  Christianity  between  the  time 
of  the  Apostles  and  that  of  the  Reformers  as 
nothing  but  a  melancholy  process  of  corruption 
and  decay,  who  think  that  there  soon  came  a 
break  between  the  spirit  of  the  Founder  and 
His  Church,  and  that  the  source  of  its  inspira¬ 
tion  was  dried  up,  may  be  Christians  in  a  full 
sense,  and  have  unwavering  faith  in  the 
Founder  of  their  religion,  but  it  is  hard  to  see 
how  they  can  be  properly  called  Churchmen. 
One  need  not,  of  course,  in  accepting  the 
continuity  of  the  life  of  the  Church  look  upon 
her  as  infallible,  or  as  always  living  up  to  the 
height  of  her  vocation.  She  has  always  been 
prone  to  backsliding,  and  in  some  ages  has 
almost  ceased  to  shine  as  a  light  to  the  world. 


304  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

But  there  has  been  a  continuity  of  existence, 
and  spirit  has  handed  on  to  spirit  the  life  of 
the  Founder. 

As  it  is  the  great  merit  of  the  Evangelical 
leaders  that  they  laid  fresh  stress  on  the  facts 
of  Christian  psychology,  so  it  is  the  great 
merit  of  the  leaders  of  the  Tractarian  move¬ 
ment  that  they  emphasised  anew  what  had 
been  almost  forgotten,  the  continuity  of  the 
Christian  life  and  the  permanent  inspiration  of 
the  Christian  Church.  But  here  again,  as  I 
venture  to  think,  a  great  movement  has  been 
hampered  by  narrowness  and  want  of  culture, 
and  is  in  danger  of  finding  itself  in  opposition 
to  all  that  is  progressive  in  the  modern 
intellectual  life. 

Few  opinions  are  more  general  among 
reflecting  Anglicans  than  regret  at  the  limita¬ 
tions,  if  they  may  so  be  termed,  of  the 
Reformers  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The 
course  they  took  was  perhaps  at  the  time 
inevitable,  but  it  has  since  had  its  revenges. 
In  rejecting  what  was  intolerable  in  the 


Liberal  Anglicanism  305 

doctrine  and  discipline  of  the  Roman  Church, 

they  also  in  many  cases  threw  away  what  was 

of  inestimable  value.  Like  hasty  weeders 

they  pulled  up  the  wheat  with  the  tares. 

And  because  much  which  they  rejected  had 

deep  roots  in  the  spiritual  nature  of  man,  the 

Roman  Church  has  by  degrees  regained  much 

of  the  ground  she  had  lost.  By  rejecting  all 

belief  and  all  custom  for  which  they  could  not 

find  Scriptural  justification,  the  Reformers 

made  war  upon  the  doctrine  of  development, 

which  holds  of  religious  as  of  secular  history. 

Fortunately  they  read  into  Scripture  much 

which,  properly  speaking,  is  not  there,  or  they 

would  have  gone  still  further  in  the  direction 

of  negation.  As  it  was,  they  made  their 

churches  poor  and  cold  by  excluding  from 

them  many  of  the  developments  which  the 

Church  had  evolved  to  meet  the  demands  of 

the  Christian  heart.  It  is  impossible  to  many 

intensely  to  believe  in  the  future  life  and  at 

the  same  time  to  reject  all  attempt  at  spiritual 

communion  with  the  departed.  Human 

20 


306  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

nature  cannot  now  tolerate  the  belief  in  the 
division  of  mankind  at  death  into  the  chil¬ 
dren  of  light  and  the  children  of  darkness, 
but  often  insists  upon  some  intermediate  or 
probationary  state.  To  some  Christians  in 
every  land  the  ascetic  life,  the  life  of  poverty 
and  chastity,  will  appear  the  only  means  of 
saving  their  souls.  And  however  great  be  the 
dangers  of  the  confessional,  and  however 
binding  the  duty  of  keeping  it  within  bounds, 
it  is  certain  that  to  some  weaker  souls  it  is  a 
priceless  boon.  Its  consonance  to  human 
nature  is  best  shown  by  the  fact  that  John 
Wesley  introduced  it  in  a  democratic  form, 
by  his  institution  of  the  class-meeting,  into 
his  society.  And  although  ritual  and  religious 
pomp  involve  dangers,  yet  their  complete 
absence  must  tend,  save  in  a  time  of  great 
religious  fervour,  to  make  our  churches  cold 
and  unattractive  through  neglect  of  the 
aesthetic  side  of  man. 

There  was  indeed  a  real  need  for  the 
Catholic  revival  of  the  middle  of  the  last 


Liberal  Anglicanism  307 

century.  It  has  done  much  to  quicken  the 
pulses  of  the  Anglican  Church,  and  especially 
of  the  clergy.  It  has  produced  a  more  historic 
bent  in  the  Church,  and  raised  barriers  against 
the  secular  spirit,  which  threatened  to  destroy 
religious  life  altogether.  But  on  two  sides  it 
started  at  some  disadvantage.  In  the  first 
place,  it  did  not  start  as  a  broad  popular  move¬ 
ment,  but  among  a  group  of  gifted  Oxford 
dons,  and  it  is  only  here  and  there  that  it  has 
really  taken  hold  of  the  popular  life  and 
imagination.  And  in  the  second  place,  its 
founders  were  unfortunately  out  of  touch  with 
modern  thought,  both  historic  and  scientific. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  movement  would  not 
have  taken  place  if  Newman  had  known 
German.  I  should  prefer  to  say  that  it  would 
have  taken  a  different  course  if  Newman  and 
his  party  had  been  fairly  launched  on  the 
stream  of  European  thought.  One  cannot 
help  for  a  moment  trying  to  imagine  what 
might  have  happened  if,  instead  of  editing  the 
Fathers  and  opposing  every  liberal  measure  in 


308  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

Church  and  State,  Newman  and  Pusey  had 
made  terms  with  the  historic  sense  of  Arnold, 
the  wide  Christian  charity  of  Stanley,  the 
religious  insight  of  Robertson.  It  is,  of  course, 
a  mere  dream.  But  is  it  possible  that  the 
Tractarians  might  have  so  liberalised  their 
basis  as  to  include  men  like  M.  Loisy  on  the 
one  side  and  men  like  Mr  Booth  on  the  other  ? 
Could  they  have  claimed  back  for  us  those 
parts  of  our  birthright  which  the  Reformers 
threw  away  ;  and  at  the  same  time  made  war 
on  the  notion  that  Christianity  can  only  be 
received  on  the  condition  of  accepting  a  number 
of  obsolete  views  in  physical  science,  in  psycho¬ 
logy,  and  in  history  ? 

However  that  be,  it  seems  that  against  the 
narrower  section  of  those  who  are  so  oddly 
called  “  advanced  ”  Churchmen  we  may  bring 
the  charge  of  confining  their  sympathies  to  the 
pre-Reformation  Church,  and  overlooking  on 
the  one  side  the  vast  enlargement  of  the 
spiritual  horizon  which  has  taken  place  amid 
the  struggles  and  discoveries  of  recent  centuries, 


Liberal  Anglicanism  309 

and  on  the  other  side  some  of  the  most  im¬ 
portant  facts  of  religion  in  our  own  country. 
Let  me  give  but  one  or  two  examples. 

Some  able  Anglicans  are  in  the  habit  of 
speaking  as  if  the  one  hope  of  the  future  lay 
in  re-establishing  the  outward  unity  of  the 
Church.  But  it  must  surely  be  evident  to 
everyone  whose  eyes  are  not  blinded  that  at 
present  the  unity  of  the  Church  can  mean  for 
us  only  one  thing,  an  entire  surrender  to  Rome, 
and  the  giving  up  of  all  the  purposes  and 
hopes  which  have  governed  the  life  and  the 
death  of  our  ancestors  for  three  centuries  and 
a  half.  It  is  no  doubt  an  excellent  thing  to 
preach  greater  charity  and  friendliness  towards 
the  members  of  other  branches  of  the  Church 
than  our  own  ;  but  to  talk  of  external  unity  is 
like  talking  of  the  4 4  parliament  of  man,  the 
federation  of  the  world,”  which  will  not 
come  in  our  time,  nor  in  our  children’s 
time. 

Another  matter  in  which  I  think  that  High 
Churchmen  have  not  taken  the  best  course  is 


310  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

in  relation  to  the  keeping  of  Sunday.  Their 
sympathies  have  been  so  much  absorbed  by 
ancient  times  and  other  countries,  that  they 
have  not  realised  the  enormous  value  to  English 
Christianity  of  a  somewhat  strict  observance  of 
Sunday  as  a  day  of  rest  and  religious  observance. 
They  have  not  resisted  with  all  their  strength 
that  progressive  secularisation  of  Sunday  which 
is  now  in  full  progress,  and  which  must  in  time 
do  more  to  dwarf  and  hinder  the  spiritual  life 
of  the  country  than  we  can  yet  imagine.  The 
Church  tradition  has  been  in  this  matter  made 
by  the  High  Church  party  of  more  account 
than  the  facts  of  the  society  around  us. 

In  recent  years,  though  the  extreme  ecclesi¬ 
astical  party  in  the  English  Church  has 
increased  among  the  clergy,  it  has  exhibited 
disturbing  phenomena.  Its  strength  no  longer 
lies  in  the  older  Universities,  but  in  the 
Theological  Colleges,  and  thus  there  has  arisen 
the  danger  that  the  clergy  may  drift  in  one 
direction  and  the  laity  in  another,  and  the 
Church  may  become  as  hostile  to  the  State  as 


Liberal  Anglicanism  3 1 1 

it  is  in  France.  As  yet  the  danger  is  remote, 
but  it  exists.1 

It  ought  to  be  possible  to  combine  an 
appreciation  of  what  is  good  in  the  High 
Church  movement  with  liberal  views  in  psych¬ 
ology  and  history.  Whether  any  breadth  of 
culture  and  belief  is  possible  in  the  Roman 
Church  may  well  be  doubted.  In  the  past  the 
Roman  Church  has  not  closely  scanned  the 
views  of  laymen  unless  they  were  rebellious, 
but  certainly  she  has  always  insisted  on  dictat¬ 
ing  the  beliefs  of  the  clergy.  It  is  scarcely 
possible  to  imagine  a  change  in  this  respect. 
But  in  the  Anglican  Church  our  liberty  may 
help  us  in  the  consideration  of  history  as  in 
that  of  doctrine.  While  we  acknowledge  the 
inspiration  of  the  Christian  Church,  we  may 
deny  its  infallibility.  While  we  see  that  on 
the  whole  it  has  remained  the  light  of  the 
world,  we  may  allow  that  the  light  has  often 
been  dim,  and  sometimes  has  sadly  needed  a 

1  It  is  decidedly  less  remote  than  when  these  words 
were  written,  five  years  ago. 


312  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

reviving,  which  has  usually  at  such  times 
been  near  at  hand.  Our  membership  of  the 
Church  commits  us  as  does  our  member¬ 
ship  of  a  nation.  As  Englishmen  we  are 
bound  to  feel  that  an  “increasing  purpose” 
runs  through  the  struggles  and  sorrows  of 
our  ancestors  ;  but  we  are  not  bound  to  hold 
that  all  our  kings  have  been  virtuous  or  all 
our  statesmen  wise.  The  same  principle 
holds  in  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church. 
Councils  and  Popes  alike  have  erred  through 
want  of  knowledge  and  of  wisdom,  and  taken 
steps  which  their  followers  have  had  to  re¬ 
trace,  or  will  have  to  retrace  in  the  future. 
Yet,  upon  the  whole,  we  may  see  an 
“  increasing  purpose  ”  running  through  the 
history  of  Christianity.  We  do  not  find 
in  the  history  of  the  world  anywhere  perfect 
light  or  utter  darkness,  but  upon  the  whole 
the  Church  has  stood  in  the  light,  except  at 
those  crises  when  a  thorough  reformation  had 
become  an  absolute  necessity. 

To  say  this  is  not  to  deny  the  special  and 


Liberal  Anglicanism  313 

unique  mission  of  the  Christian  Church. 
Each  nation  also  has  a  mission,  and  so,  for 
that  matter,  has  every  individual.  Of  Church, 
nation,  individual,  there  is  a  type  laid  up  in 
heaven,  to  which  the  earthly  realisation  is 
bound  to  try  to  approach  ;  and  by  approaching 
or  receding  from  the  Divine  ideal,  each  fulfils 
or  else  thwarts  the  will  of  the  Father  in 
Heaven. 

But  the  idea  of  the  Christian  Church 
belongs  not  to  a  nation,  but  to  all  mankind. 
For  us,  Clement  of  Alexandria  gathered  into 
the  Church  the  fruits  of  Greek  wisdom  ;  for 
us,  Augustine  brought  to  bear  on  the  individual 
life  the  theology  of  St  Paul ;  for  us,  Hildebrand 
and  Becket  maintained  in  the  face  of  kings 
and  nobles  that  the  spiritual  life  is  the  highest 
concern  of  man  ;  for  us,  Francis  revived  the 
Galilean  Gospel  of  the  poor ;  for  us,  Thomas 
Aquinas  stated  the  principles  of  Christianity 
in  the  terms  of  the  Aristotelian  wisdom.  We 
need  not  blindly  admire  any  of  these  great 
Christian  workers  ;  but  we  feel  that  without 


314  Modernity  and  the  Churches 

them  our  daily  life  would  be  meaner  and 
poorer. 

We  take,  then,  four  points  of  the  charter  of 
Anglicanism  to  be  (1)  freedom,  (2)  nationality, 

(3)  acceptance  of  the  facts  of  the  spiritual  life, 

(4)  adherence  to  the  main  stream  of  Church 
history.  And  it  is  quite  possible,  with  the 
acceptance  of  each  of  these  four  points,  to 
combine  a  broad  culture  which  values  the 
intellectual  and  spiritual  legacies  of  Greece 
and  Rome,  as  well  as  those  of  Judsea,  and  is 
willing  to  accept  all  fresh  light  from  the 
researches  of  modern  historians  and  men  of 
science,  as  well  as  the  spiritual  teachings  of 
the  Founder  of  Christianity  and  His  followers. 
And  to  me  it  seems  to  depend  on  the  activity 
of  liberal  Churchmen  whether  the  Anglican 
Church  follows  the  Roman  Church  into  a 
position  of  hostility  to  liberal  thought  from 
which  there  is  no  retreat,  or  whether  she 
makes  such  terms  with  that  thought  as  shall 
secure  her  a  new  and  a  hopeful  lease  of  life. 


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